After Isenguard
by MichelleH
Summary: Grima's life after his escape from Isenguard - can he ever be accepted back in Rohan? Pls review, all feedback is much appreciated. Warning - Slash in later chapters. Now completed
1. Chapter One

After Isenguard - Grimá's story  
  
Dates are in Shire Reckoning, beginning in the winter of 1419  
  
Chapter One.  
  
The escape took time, what with the drooling, sadistic orcs - one who haunted me and hurt me constantly it seemed - and Saruman's rages. Eventually, incredibly sore after another night's torment, I rode out of Isenguard. I did not dare look back.  
  
Many days and nights were spent hiding in the forest, until I found an abandoned house to shelter. Finding what food I could. Burning what windfall I found.  
  
The terror of those first nights was hard to re-visit. The War of the Ring took place in the winter, a bitter one that seeped into my bones adding to an already chilled heart. I would huddle over a meagre fire and cringe from the sounds of the forest, hide from the sounds of marching, for no side would want me. Eowyn's words of rejection gnawed at me; I had banished Eomer from the kingdom. Had he and his riders perished? Theoden-King had spoken of leechcraft; how would he receive his former advisor? Saruman's promises had me betray everything and everyone I had known.  
  
Oh, but I was weak! Had I known of the truce between Gondor and Rohan - and the Elves, which surprised me, they being so superior to Menfolk and insular by nature - would I have followed Saruman's entreaties?   
  
If I had resisted him, I could still have been at Theoden's side. Eomer would have joined against Mordor - I still remembered the pain on his face as my henchmen dragged him away - what had possessed me to do that? Through my own stupidity ( and here I had prided my self on being so intelligent, superior to the horse riding herd) I had lost everything.  
  
I grew weaker and faint as the days passed, seeing ghostly pale faces at the cracked windows and visitors from my past. Once Theoden came, standing in bloodied armour, looking at me with such pity, I cowered at his feet before he faded before me.   
  
Weeks passed and the sounds of battle that had carried through the forest had stopped. Once fine robes were now torn and sullied from the dirt and I used the black robe to drag food back to my home. It was on one of these expeditions that the Rohirrim Riders found me, coming upon me as I washed my hands and face in the Isen. A sword blade touched the back of my neck and a hand gripped me to raise me.  
  
"King Eomer has business with you, I think,"  
  
Eomer-King? But I barely had time to ponder this before being strapped to a horse and taken to Rohan; a few days ride. The guard seemed surprised at my appetite when I received small portions of bread from them. I was still weak when we arrived at Edoras - still as windy as I remember - the Golden Hall of a new King.  
  
I was dragged up the stone stairway, reflecting that I had last travelled down a sight quicker. I was dropped before a pair of boots whose owner remarked that I would need to be cleaned up before being brought before the King.  
  
A tub was filled in the servant's chamber and my remaining clothes were burnt as I sat in the water. Bruised coloured every limb and my torso was scarred from the orc's claws when... I shuddered.  
  
"The water should be warm enough - get clean!" And a rag was thrown at me as the guard left the room.  
  
I dried and dressed in simpler robes before being taken to see the King. A mere precursor to execution, I thought. The bath was a nice touch, though; I would die cleansed of my crime. My steps faltered and I shook.   
  
We entered the great hall. More braziers burnt, shedding more light than Theoden had known in his stygian gloom. I saw Eomer's feet as they placed me before him. I dared not look up.  
  
Eomer exhaled slowly. He stood a little time, less impatient than before.  
  
"My men caught you some way from Isenguard. Why were you so far away from Saruman?"  
  
My mouth trembled but I could not speak. Shades of grey clouded my vision and I seemed to strain to stand.  
  
"Let us try another question; what am I to do with you?"  
  
"Your uncle would have me hung." I manage to mumble.  
  
"My uncle does not rule though. He died on Pelonnor Fields, slain by the forces of Mordor." I glance and see the fury in his eyes though his expression changes when he sees mine.  
  
"Eowyn fought alongside him. She fought bravely, as good as any man. She is not here either Grimá. Do you wish to know why?"  
  
I dread his answer and my head bows lower as he stands and walks about me.  
  
"She is married to Faramir, second son of the Steward of Gondor." I glance at him at that and his face has a pleasant enquiring expression hiding his glee at my pain, no doubt.  
  
"So, my question remains; what am I do with you Grimá?" The guards draw forward and his hand bades them stay. His throne doubles in my vision and I stagger. A firm hand grips my elbow.  
  
"When did you last have something to eat?" he asks me, a mingled expression of revulsion and pity on his face.  
  
"I cannot...cannot," and I am led to a chair and long table. Soup and a hunk of bread are placed before me and I manage to eat some, keeping my sight trained on the table.  
  
Eomer.  
  
They did not tell me he looked like this, a wasted frame and a face haunted by several scenes of hell. My words of my uncle and sister strike him to the core and it is this reaction which compels me to spare his life. Before Saruman's influence, he had been an able advisor, a trusted teacher who had sat indulgently smiling at Theodred's games, my antics, Eowyn's songs. Eowyn had read more than us and he had encouraged her; now the mere mention of her name makes his face pale and he can barely stand. My jealousy flares for a moment at his reaction; this is a hellish meeting.  
  
I grab his arm; thin as a bird's wing it shakes in my palm.  
  
"When did you last have something to eat?" I ask him and he can barely stand, yet alone answer. I lead him to the table and someone brings him soup and bread. His hands are still shaking and I have to pass him the spoon.  
  
He is right; the law states execution for treason. Yet I had never known it used and I doubt my uncle did either. Would there be argument if I spared him his life? Would my conscience rest easy if it were carried out? Would I be doing the right thing by pardoning him?  
  
And now that I see him again, even in this state, my ancient feelings stir and yet again I suppress them. Reason must guide my actions, not some unfulfilled crush on my old tutor and guide. I had forgiven the pain when he sent me away; he was bewitched, unknowing. Can I count on my people to forgive him his past now?  
  
He still stares at the wood; very well. My fingers lift his head so that our eyes meet. There is a gash above the paler eye, it needs seeing to.  
  
"You have your quarters next to mine," Reason, Eomer, reason... "so that I may know your whereabouts at all times. There is a Grand Council to convene between Rohan and Gondor, I wish to have a decent scribe who can note down all discussions and help with plans. Other duties will arise as I repair and restore Rohan."  
  
I remove my hand and none is more surprised at my decision than the man before me.  
  
"You were a good advisor before Saruman," I state loudly for everyone's benefit, "and you will be again."  
  
I stand. "Enjoy your meal, counsellor." And I leave the room. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Grimá  
  
I did finish my meal slowly, in some kind of dull stupor. I had a second chance although I did not know why. Eomer had shocked me and some of his people no doubt. Yet not a word was said as the guards took me to new quarters; a chamber with two doors, one to the corridor and one to the chamber adjoining. It was spare, but clean and comfortably furnished. The bed was warm as I lay down, shifting to find the best position that did not hurt as much.  
  
Exhaustion overtook me and I slept, oblivious to the nurse's attention to wounds on my face and ointments left for my body. I awoke to dawn's light streaming into the room, the connecting door opened slightly and movement within, splashing and brushing. This alerts me to my own ablutions and I tend to myself, hearing someone enter the room.   
  
"Good, you are up. We eat, then there are maps we need to go over. I want to examine these areas with teams of men able to repair the damage. We need to see what needs replanting - the orcs either ate or burnt a lot."  
  
you could trade goods for expertise. Gondor would probably be eager to combine forces  
  
"At the Council, to repair.." I trail off, a curious light appeared at the mention of Gondor. When you have dwelt with a wizard inclined to fly in insanity, you judge reactions very carefully.  
  
"Go on," he prompts.  
  
"You would already have close ties with Gondor. Your sister and brother-in-law no doubt would want to help. Perhaps the ranger could provide..."  
  
I stop again, puzzled at the look of amusement on Eomer's face.   
  
"The Ranger, as you term him, is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Isidur's heir."  
  
"The Ring," I mutter.  
  
"What ring? The Ring of Power was destroyed by the Hobbit."  
  
"Isidur's ring. A hobbit?"  
  
"Come with me to breakfast. You have a lot to catch up on.".  
  
I stumble as we walk down the steps leading to the great hall. His hand seems to be burning me, the rest of me feels cold to the bone.   
  
My mind still whirls at the events of yesterday, a day on which I was sure I would die. Yet I am here, restored to counsels' position at the side of king. If the roles were turned, what would I do?   
  
We sit and eat, the King lapsing into silence after a brief retelling of the War of the Ring. I am impressed with the hobbits confrontation with Shelob; the orcs were terrified of her. Others come and go; preparing for a journey. The King is ride out to survey lands; I am to survey the stores and provisions, then to check our records (and knowing Rohan there will be few of those) to see what can be distributed out to the various villages in Rohan who have suffered under the orcs' attacks.   
  
The King rides off, seeming preoccupied with something. With warmth in my belly and a strange feeling within, I bend to my task, walking slowly and noting things to bring to the king's attention.  
  
I have a second chance. And I have identified this new feeling. It is hope.  
  
Eomer.  
  
He did not stir when I went in to him last night, watching him sleep, by necessity waiting till everyone had left me before opening our adjoining door and going in. Terrible dreams racked him; his eyes moving frantically under the lids, threatening to dislodge the bandage that had been placed there earlier. How I felt then! All the feeling from my past threatened to overwhelm me.  
  
Feigning boredom during my lessons, when I would gaze at him as he gazed at Eowyn; and she so indifferent. His eyes used to absorb me; they are different shades of blue and they would alight, as he would tell tales from the past, legends of our forebears.  
  
My uncle respected him, Theodred wished nothing more than to be out riding or fighting and Eowyn used him for knowledge but nothing more. Others in a court despised him, particularly Hama and Gamling, both suspicious of anyone who did not ride out or wield a sword. They were not alone in their opinion. He was different, an exotic fragile frame in the midst of us. I was fascinated by him, then desirous of him. After that one episode with Theodred I wished to show my teacher what else I knew. He had never guessed of my feelings and I had certainly never told anyone else, for to do so would be folly. I was to marry and sire an heir and the rest would take care of itself.  
  
I had stroked his face before I had left his chamber. It was all I could permit myself to do.  
  
My fellow horseman cautiously enquiring as to whether it would be safe to leave Grimá back there interrupted my reverie.  
  
" If he fails in his appointed tasks then I will have to consider a suitable punishment. I feel that he has changed since his departure from here. I understand your concern though; I promise you I would not let anyone hurt the kingdom of Rohan."  
  
And with that he had to be content.  
  
IT was a week's journey, during which I kept myself busy. There were many repairs to be done many crops to sow; burial teams to rid the land of heaps of stinking orcs. The nights were terrible, for our sleep was disturbed by orcs who had survived the war but were now starving and desperate. I had already had good practice with my sword at despatching them and I did so again. It was a weary team who returned to Edoras and I hoped that I would find everything in good order.  
  
I was not disappointed and a few of my fellow riders were surprised to see Grimá with his many lists and plans. Apparently he had not resorted to his evil ways after all and was working for the good of all. But then Saruman had been killed in the War of the Ring, how I knew not, and Grimá had escaped, outrunning the orcs. His abode had been nothing more than a shell when they found him and a week of rest and food had made a small change in his appearance. His face had regained some colour although dark shadows still remained around his eyes. He had stopped talking and now glanced away.  
  
"You have done well Grimá. You still do not look well though. Perhaps a ride out tomorrow, some fresh air will be better for you."  
  
He nodded his head and backed off as another came forward with news to tell me of the preparations for the upcoming meeting between Faramir, Aragorn and myself, although I looked forward to seeing my sister the most. A long time it had seemed since the wedding. I ate and glanced after Grimá as he left the hall.   
  
My head was filled with thoughts that night and I took myself in hand as I thought of my neighbour next door. My pleasure was interrupted by moans and my first thought was that Grimá had decided on the same actions that night, but it was not so. His moans were due to his nightmares and he shrieked as his eyes rolled in their sockets. I grabbed his arms and shook him.  
  
He awoke panicked and full of terror; I cursed my un-gentle methods and tried to calm him before his raised voice brought others to the door.   
  
"Grimá, be quiet. You are safe here. Be quiet!"  
  
His wet face looked up at me before turning away but my hands stopped him from moving too far. I released my grip and sat on his bed as he glanced into the embers of the fire, almost out now.  
  
"You did not stay long after the meal," I remarked. He glanced down.  
  
"I still need a lot of rest sire," his voice so quiet I could barely hear him, "and I fear my company is not welcome in the Great Hall."  
  
"Your company is desired by me, Grimá," Desired? Dear Eru! "I want someone who knows the workings of the trades, this court. And we have much to do."  
  
I stood up to leave him. "We ride out tomorrow, Grimá. Then we shall plan this meeting with the others. There is a lot to organise."  
  
Why was I repeating jobs to do to this man? Surely I could unburden my feelings; he would understand the depth of emotion I felt. I closed our connecting door and sank against it. This confusion, this conflict would have to be resolved. This distraction was robbing my sleep. I never thought that mere days of his presence would re-awaken all these emotions, long suppressed by habit and more pressing matters. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Grimá  
  
The King has returned to his chamber. His eyes held an emotion I could not identify. I do not look forward to the horse-ride tomorrow, my riding skills are non-existent and the ride to Isenguard was fueled by fear, not pleasure. Yet I dare not let him down and I trust he will be patient. Tolerance is all I can ask, or expect.  
  
The morning, and I enter his room at his summons. He is stripped to the waist and displays an athletic torso. I admire what I cannot emulate; it is one of the ironies of my life that although I can feel pleasure and passion to either sex, both are repulsed by me. However, I have reconciled myself to that fact, especially after Eowyn's rejection, and content myself merely by glancing at him as he dresses.  
  
We eat and go to the stables, where Eomer lifts me to mount my horse. I do not remember him so tactile but such thoughts are banished as he gallops off and I concentrate on hanging on for dear life, promoting smirks from the Hall guards as I pass.  
  
We ride towards the stream at the foot of the mountains and, seeing my discomfiture, Eomer slows and we trot towards it.  
  
"I was always on some guard duty or other. I had never had time to seek the beauty of this land. That view Grimá; what think you?"  
  
"It is beautiful sire, your observations are.."  
  
"It is beautiful will do. Why must you dress up these remarks? You were never so obtuse in your lessons."  
  
A hand raises and instinctively I flinch, the memory of many hurts flash through my mind. But Eomer had been laughing and now his face grew grave. His hand landed gently on the back of my neck and stayed there, warming it."  
  
"Do not think that I would strike you, Grimá."   
  
We rode for some time in silence until he remarked, "You remember how to prepare a camp don't you?"  
  
Camp? He said nothing about staying out! At night-time with whatever may be lurking in the shadows? Night-time, when all the nightterrors that crowd me cause me to doubt my own sanity? My look of panic is rewarded with a grin before he gallops off and I am forced to follow.  
  
"Should we not return sire?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"The hall would run better with you within, my lord. Surely it would be better to return?"   
  
"The Hall will be fine for one night Grimá! Why do you worry?"  
  
By now I am out of breath, my chest hurts and I am trying to stay upright in my saddle. I have not replied and he slows, take my reins as well as my own and we trot slowly to Fangorn Forest where we set up camp. It is much quieter; the Ents now reside at Isenguard and the forest has small voices of its own now. A brace of coneys small bitter little things, make a stew and I bring windfall for the small circle of stones; I can remember how to do that at least.  
  
We stretch out by the fire and look up at the stars, as diamonds on velvet.  
  
"I can never remember the names of the constellations Grimá." There is a nervous undertone to his voice - he needn't be embarrassed about that surely?  
  
I name them, pointing them out when he leaned closer so that his head was next to mine. Eventually I run out of constellations and I suspect he has fallen asleep. Looking over he has and I wrap him up with the blanket. I move a little closer to the fire and listen to the forest sounds.  
  
"Grimá, come here," a sleepy voice says from behind me.  
  
"Go back to sleep my lord,"   
  
"You need the blanket as well, come here."  
  
I shift over and we lie back to back. It takes a long time to settle as the ground is so hard and rustling noises keep me alert for a while.   
  
I am drifting off when something moves on my leg. A slight pause and it moves again. Warmer and slightly braver it moves up further, caressing my side. It feels warm, the fingers are callused but the touch is gentle and feels good...  
  
The fingers?  
  
Eomer is dreaming, that must be it. That could be the only explanation. He shifts and something hard pokes the base of my spine, shifting me forward. It would be his sword, obviously, he would not go unarmed, and saving that his sword is by his side so...  
  
Oh.   
  
Eomer is a well-proportioned man it seems. I have no clue as to behave. He is asleep; he would not behave this way so I must remove myself so that there would be no embarrassment, no tension between us. He must not realise that I have seen him in this state.  
  
I make to slide away and his head nuzzles at my neck and my body is responding. Feelings that have absent for a long, long time flood my body and some intensely pleasurable moments pass with his hands on my body. I sense the stars through slitted eyes and a few gasps escape me. I must be careful not to wake him and ...  
  
What am I doing? I deserve all the names bestowed on me. I move to the fire, feeling deep shame and Eomer rolls forward, banging his nose on the floor and waking up. Two bleary eyes try to focus on me and I urge him to go back to sleep.  
  
"You'll be cold," he replies sullenly and I smile back at him.  
  
"I've been colder that this my lord, I will be fine."  
  
He settles back down, his breathing becoming more regular, not as harsh as before. When my head starts to droop, I crawl back to my space, taking care not to disturb him. Awake at daybreak, with a chorus of birds, we de-camp and ride back to Edoras and Eomer comments on how quiet I am.  
  
"A little tired my lord, that is all."  
  
"You are not used to the outdoor life, that is all!" Then he stares at me.  
  
"What is it, my lord?"  
  
"Your eye is paler. Go to the apothecary when we get back."  
  
We return and he is busy on some business. My eye is examined and it is some growth over the eye, a thin layer of tissue. It will blind it eventually. I had become so used to the greyness that I did not realise what had happened.   
  
I spend the rest of the day alone in my room. One eye will be totally useless. Will I become totally useless to him? How soon before he casts me out?  
  
Eomer.  
  
I frightened him off. He did not mention last night but I have not seen him all day. It is frustrating beyond belief, he is more nervous than any woman I have been with, that is certain. And yet he sighed in pleasure I am sure of it!  
  
Damn him, I will go and question him. He cannot be so obscure! I question a guard and am told he is in his room. Very well, I will go there. I rise to go and a messenger from Gondor has arrived for the King. I go and greet him, making all the correct responses but my mind is elsewhere, in a small chamber next to mine  
  
Grimá  
  
Eomer arrives well after they have eaten, I am sure. His face is working, he is struggling with something.  
  
I stand. "My lord, I fear I am no use to you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You asked me to visit the apothecary and I visited him. There is a growth on my eye, which will spread. My eye will be rendered useless by this. I will understand if you wish me to leave the council, there are other, more able men."  
  
"No." He strides over, lifts my head and stares into my eye.  
  
"There are magnifying glasses and other things that would help - why would you need to leave the council? Why do you assume I would be rid of you?"  
  
"Why would you want me to stay?"  
  
"Ohhhh!" In sheer frustration he grabs handfuls of his hair and paces, dropping his arms.  
  
"You are the most exasperating, frustrating man I know! You jump to absurd conclusions, you have no regard for yourself and think everyone else feels the same way."  
  
Stunned by his exclamation I sit down. "But what I have done..."  
  
"You got away. You did not join the fight against us and I recognised your writing on the note warning us about the troops coming to Pelonnor. Saruman is dead, he cannot harm you any more. We have routed the orcs. No-one will be coming for revenge. The past is gone, Grimá. We have a future to plan for Rohan and Gondor and all the rest of MiddleEarth. And I wish to do this with you."  
  
He kneels before me so our heads are at the same height. And then he embraces me. 


	4. Chapter Four

*Chapter Four*  
  
Eomer  
  
He is trembling in my arms but I am not prepared to let go. He must see how things are now. He is not stupid, he never was. His body stiffens, then relaxes into me. Two frail arms encircle me and I can barely feel them. His head rests against mine, his cheek is wet. If I turn I can kiss him, show him properly how I feel.  
  
And now there are voices from the stairwell. I curse and Grima stares at me in surprise.  
  
"My lords, the party from Gondor are on their way! They are near the gates."  
  
I stride into my room and open my door.  
  
"Make sure the gates are open. Arrange for food and drink to be brought to the Hall, I will down to greet them."  
  
Going back to Grima, I find him cleaning his face, his breath still hitching.  
  
"The visitors are here. You must make yourself ready and go down to the Great Hall. I will bring them in. Ensure that there is enough food and drink."  
  
"Why have they come at night?"  
  
"Grima, I do not know. Please, help me here."  
  
I went and stood outside the Great Hall, hoping that Grima's lists and provisions were correct, that our visitors, nay friends, could be well looked after.  
  
They entered the main gate and a burst of light shone out - Grima had placed more logs of the fire and was frantically placing cups about the table. Why was no one helping him? I hid my fury as my guests dismounted and climbed the stone steps.  
  
Gandalf the White, Aragorn-King of Gondor, Arwen Evenstar, quite possibly the fairest elf that ever lived, Eowyn and Faramir the most beloved to me, saving one other. The dwarf and Elf - the dwarves name was Gimli - what was the Elf called?  
  
  
  
I stood racking my brains seeking his name as Gandalf approached and I gave him a hearty embrace. There was much laughter at our meeting; it had been a time since we had been together; Eowyn and Faramir's wedding in fact, it had too long.  
  
"Do we have to give up our weapons this time? I do not think Legolas can be parted from his bow!"  
  
Legolas! Thank you Gimli!  
  
"Of course not, I am sure he will glad to receive lessons from us," I remark and get a round of laughter and a non-too subtle dig in the ribs from my beloved sister. We enter the Hall but Gandalf has already made his way in and is stood over Grima, it seems. He passes his hand over Grima's eyes and Grima is terrified.  
  
Grima  
  
I make my way down to the Hall. This meeting has only been partially planned; they have arrived much earlier than expected. No one can be bothered to move they merely stare with complete indifference. I hope Eomer can give them a few more minutes before they enter.  
  
One has as I bend over the table, setting things out.  
  
"Grima, son of Galmond. You have returned to your former self, it seems."  
  
The white wizard is in front of me. Sheer terror overtakes me and he steps back and raises his hand. He will grip my head, force me down, I was never in Rohan, I am back in Isenguard and he can force me to him in my mouth until I choke...  
  
"No," I manage and my head is full of screams but my speech is a whisper.  
  
"You do not see clearly, it seems," he replies and it is Gandalf, and I am in Rohan. He passes his hands over my vision and everything flows, swims before me.  
  
Eomer is walking towards me with someone else, I cannot make out whom, and Gandalf is guiding me to a seat.  
  
"Let him rest, he has been through too much it seems. He is very weak."  
  
A drink is pressed into my hand and someone helps me drink it. I wish for sleep, just sleep but my vision is clearing now. Was that tapestry across from me so blue before? Why can't I breathe? It is Eomer and Aragorn who are beside me and they each take an arm, ready to guide me upstairs. There are two ladies across from me and their looks could not be more different. One is an Elf, whose eyes are full of compassion and concern. The other is Eowyn, whose very glance wishes me dead.  
  
Eomer.  
  
We carry him between us up the stairs to his chamber. His breath comes in short gasps as we lie him down and he cannot seem to calm down.  
  
"There are medicines in my pack which I can bring. They may help him to sleep."  
  
With that Aragorn disappears and I try to calm him, to get him breathe slower. Both eyes are blue now but they seem full of fear - his look all the time he has been here.  
  
"You planned things well whilst I was away, Grima," I manage, "Now you should rest, re-gather your strength."  
  
I had seen his condition and yet I had set him jobs. What was I thinking? He needed time...But then, what had Gandalf done to him?  
  
"I thought he'd come back, I would be hurt."  
  
"They are all back, Grima. You are safe here."  
  
"I thought I was back in Isenguard. I thought he would make me do that again. I cannot do that. Please my lord..."  
  
His voice rises in panic and his hands clutch at my robe. I am confused as to what he means and his begging breaks me. I hold him to me repeating my words to reassure him and Aragorn returns. He makes up a draught that we get Grima to drink and Aragorn goes back to see to the others. I envy him his calm; nothing seems to disrupt him and I wonder if I could ever rule with the same serenity. The draught seems to be working as Grima slums against but one phrase follows him to his sleep that chills me.  
  
"All the pain came back."  
  
I give him a few more minutes but he doesn't stir and wearily I make my way downstairs. They are deep in conversation by the fire, save for Eowyn who glares at me. Aragorn notices the look and glances at me. You'll have trouble there, he tells me and I concur. It has been a long week.  
  
We go to our chambers and I visit Grima who is in the same position as I left him. The sleeping draught has worked well it seems.  
  
"He suffered many tortures and abuses at Isenguard," was all Gandalf would tell us. Was that a sign of satisfaction I saw on my sister's face? It looked so ugly.   
  
"He done more to rid MiddleEarth of evil than you know," he continued, looking directly at me.  
  
When Grima is better, I must discuss this with him. Or would it be better to let him forget? Would I be doing more harm re-living the past? Or should he tell and air out all that has happened, to rid him of those memories that poison his mind? I am at a loss and Gandalf takes me to one side.  
  
"His body is improving slowly but it has many months since he had decent lodgings and at his age it will take longer to recover. His mind is troubled too much by the past and he needs rest and company to get through this."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"A healing spell, a powerful one. He is exhausted though but he will take rest now that his many hurts are gone."  
  
"Could you rid him of those memories, cause him to forget?"  
  
Gandalf held up a hand.  
  
"I cannot and should not do that Eomer. He needs to know what he has experienced and survived. He cannot live half a life, no- none can."  
  
His stare was intense. I knew a statement when it applied to me as well.  
  
"He will come through this period the stronger for it, providing he can rest now, with kinder company than he has known."  
  
"What happened to him at Isenguard, Gandalf?"  
  
"He was used and cast aside as well you know. Surely his scars are clear to you Eomer?"  
  
A long pause.  
  
"Saruman's corruption by power was worse than I knew."  
  
Grima's sleep was deep and dreamless as far as I could tell for I watched awhile as he slept. My mind stirred with my thoughts about him, the plans for Rohan and Gondor, how things would be between my sister and me. Her coldness, nay hatred for Grima was there still vibrant and strong. She would see my taking him in as a betrayal after what Saruman had done through him to my uncle.  
  
He had been besotted with her as I was with him, and the memory of that caused no little pain. I had accepted that as I had tried to squash my feelings and concentrate of my work, my duties, trying the pleasures of the flesh with many a willing maiden in my youth. Then the War had overtaken all else, watching my sister hurt in more ways than one, my country men killed, my uncle...   
  
I leaned against the cool stone and pressed my forehead to it. So much loss. So much loneliness. So much to make and re-build. Again I cursed Saruman and Sauron.  
  
I wandered back to my room, leaving the door ajar; I doubted whether I would sleep much that night. Grima would have no doubt made a list; numbered the tasks to be done in a methodical way...  
  
Drifting now, in spite of everything, my mind wandered back to the camp and my explorations by the fire. He needed to put on weight, yet he seemed exotic to my touch, not the typical brawny build of Rohan, but the spare, bird-like frame, those blue eyes staring at the stars as he held his breath. My palm had moved gently over his hardness and his breath had been released in a long, shuddering sigh. Then he had moved, going to the fire, biting his lip and looking upset. He had told me to go back to sleep and ...  
  
Had he thought me asleep? Was that it? And I would have to wait awhile before asking him; it would not do to rouse him, upset him in this state. He had looked guilty...He wasn't guilty...  
  
A soft voice woke me from his room. Arwen had brought him some food and drink and was talking softly to him as he tried to apologise for the previous night.  
  
"I was just thanking Grima for his arrangements," she stated as she turned to smile back at him. His breath grew laboured as he tried to sit up and I helped him.  
  
"You should have something to eat, you did not have much yesterday. You need to rest." I sat down at one side of him as he drank and Arwen rose.  
  
"I will come back and see you later Grima, I am sure the King would not mind that." She touched his hand briefly before she departed and he looked up at her with such a besotted expression that I felt envious. Would that he would look at me... I exhaled slowly and he paused in his drinking.  
  
"What ails you, my lord?"  
  
How could I explain? I smiled at him. "Nothing for you to worry about. Gandalf's spell should have helped the aches and pains you had, but he says you need a lot of rest."  
  
"The plans, you wanted me to..."  
  
"We will carry on with them. We discussed most of your plans last night and Rohan and Gondor will carry them out. You are to get well."  
  
Before I knew it, I was caressing his face. "Do not worry."  
  
Arwen's drink had helped him sleep and others who I appointed to nurse him reported back to me. I would be busy organising and going around Rohan. I could only trust to them now.  
  
To my great surprise, Eowyn took up a tray of food to him in the evening and was gone a while. She returned smiling slightly, the first time since she had seen Grima. She had seen the change in him and I could relax. 


	5. Chapter Five

*Chapter Five.*  
  
Grima  
  
I had spent most of the day asleep it seems. Two maids had come and helped me wash in the morning. I have felt so weary, the wizard's spell had stopped the hurting but the pain of memories had come back. Arwen had come and sat with, reading from one of the old favourites from the library and I had been lulled by her soft voice. Aragorn is a lucky man.  
  
A soft sound and a light weight sat on my bed at dusk; twilight was coming earlier now. I opened my eyes, expecting the fair elf. To my great surprise, I found Eowyn with a soft smile that never reached her eyes. There was some amusement there but none for my benefit. Here was someone who dearly hated me and I was afraid. I had once loved this woman and that love had been my undoing, and my past actions seem about to be re-paid with interest.  
  
A tray was laid across me with the evening meal on it. The heat seared through the sheet, hurting my legs. I did not dare to move. Her voice was low and calm.  
  
"Did Saruman follow you constantly snake? Did he pour poisoned words into your ear at every turn? Haunt you from the shadows to make you fearful of the dark?"  
  
"I did not know that I made you frightened..." I panted up at her. Images were clouding my mind and her fingernails digging into my arms brought me back.  
  
"Fear was not my intent, my lady!" I was begging now but it made no difference.  
  
"I was never your lady! Never! How could you think that you worm? When my brother comes to his senses he will abandon you like you abandoned us. Do you think people have forgotten what you did? You cringe there with your scars and strangers pity you but we know different." Such scorn, such bitter bile from her...  
  
I made the mistake of glancing away and her hand locked around my jaw and forced me back. "Your tears should scald you Wormtongue, you spared no pity when you galloped to Saruman. You should have begged for forgiveness and yet you ran like the coward you are. You could not fight to help defend us. I fought, Worm. Now I have turned to healing but I will not heal you. What was your reward Grima? What did you get when you could not stare after me?"  
  
My reward?  
  
The nights in the dungeons of the Tower, the spiteful leering idiotic orcs, Saruman's frustration taken out on his failed spy. I had done it all for her and she hated me for it. No one wanted me, no one liked me, I was a liar, and thief and Rohan's losses made me a murderer. I would die unloved and as unwanted as when I was born. What did I get? A queue of creatures ready to hurt me; the orc pounding into me as Saruman grinned and waited his turn.  
  
I fall out of the bed and crawl away from her as she backs away, she did not expect this, it seems. But as I wrap my arms around myself and rock she drifts away, it all drifts away and I know nothing.   
  
I could not see, I could not speak and when I finally came to my senses I was on the floor in the corner. My legs were red from the heat and a fan of blue bruises lay on each arm with four red crescents behind them. I crawled to my king's door but he was not there. Despair overtook me and I knelt with my forehead pressed against the stone Eomer  
  
It was late when I returned to my room, pausing to wash before noticing a heap on the floor.   
  
No. No, no no! Why had he crawled here? He was supposed to rest, be peaceful. I turn him over and his arms are tacky, sticky with something and in the gloom I see the dark brown of blood. There are painful flaps gouged out of his skin, red half moons caused by...  
  
Eowyn.  
  
Her smile was one of revenge.  
  
I will not forgive this.  
  
His eyes will not even focus on mine, they roll back. I lay him on my bed. There are angry red patches on his legs and a glance into his room confirms that the food was split over him at some point, the sheets are stained with it. I clean his arms as best I can. He is so silent, so still! I am not handling anything living here. His condition frightens me.  
  
"Grima, speak! Tell me."  
  
He merely looks at me, lost. I go to pick him up to place him back in his own bed and he grips me, staring back at me. I give in and place him in mine, kick off my shoes and slide in next to him. I do not sleep that night but he does. His dreams are bad and I curse my sister.  
  
I rise and leave him in bed, asking the guard in the corridor to summon the maidens to clear his room. I find Arwen in the corridor, going toward his room and I direct her to mine.  
  
" I knew something had happened," was all she would say and leaning over him, she murmured a few words of Elvish whilst holding his arms. I had forgotten that she had descended from a great line of healers. If anyone could help him, she could.  
  
I had other things to attend to. The ride out and the organising of rations to sort. And Eowyn. How can I stand to ride out with her? How can I leave him? 


	6. Chapter Six

*Chapter Six.*  
  
We set off, after I have issued further instructions to nurses and guards, to cooks and stores for the care of Edoras whilst I am gone. We take enough provisions to conduct a good survey. I must care for all my people and be seen to do so. Despite everything that has gone on I have to leave. Aragorn understands this and he sees that I am troubled by something else but he stays silent on this point. Legolas and Gimli (how I envy their easy relationship) have long since left and I travel with Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and her. We have barely spoken. I cannot stand to see that contemptuous look, that secretive little smile of hers. But we both have secrets and I know what she has done. The past Grima, that corrupted evil worm, would have deserved it, I suppose, but this one. No. No, Eowyn was wrong with her wrath.  
  
The year turns to 1420, my twenty third year, and our travels continue. The months seem long away from Edoras.  
  
"It is late, Eomer. Why do you sit late into the night? Your plans have well so far and your people love you for the pains you take to serve them. You have their respect and this bodes well for the future."  
  
Aragorn looked at me intently.  
  
"I am worried for the health of my counsellor." There. It is stated plainly. I stare into the night.  
  
"He had been corrupted but he is different now, yet I can't get anyone else to see this."  
  
"Perhaps now that they have seen the effect of Gandalf's spell..."  
  
"I hope. Yet Eowyn could not see it when.." I bite my lip but he nods.  
  
"Arwen told me of his wounds. It seems there are wounds of Eowyn's that will not heal with regard to him. Yet I think she regrets hers actions now, she seems troubled and confused. Her role keeps changing with regard to Rohan and Gondor. It is not pleasing to her; she is yet to find solid ground under her feet."  
  
"I thought her happy with Faramir?"  
  
"She is happier but still unsure of her fate, her role, as you are unsure of Grima's role in your life. I think he is more to you than a good counsel."  
  
I look back at him, then nod. It is hopeless to deny what he knows.  
  
"You cannot live half a life. But it will cause you great difficulty in your role if you choose him over a son and heir. People will question why you do not marry and they will guess the reason. He could be the source of great resentment in the court through no fault of his own. But I know you are already thinking of this."  
  
He squeezed my shoulder as he got up.  
  
"Take some rest, Eomer. There is a lot to do, still." He sighed harshly.  
  
"It is weary work," I agree.  
  
It takes some months to complete the tour, Eowyn and Faramir ride back to Ithilien whilst Aragorn and I carry on with the survey before Aragorn and Arwen continue to Gondor with their Company. We pledge to meet again in six months, when the worst of the winter is over, and I can head back to the Golden Hall, to see how things are there. I hope my instructions have been followed, I hope Edoras fares well. And Grima.  
  
We approach the gates to see a small figure hand two things to the guards then stay at the top of the stairwell. We ride through the gates and I gallop towards the stairway as it starts to make its way down. I dismount and he is there. I stand by my horse and he dips his head as I approach, then glances up at me. I embrace him, feeling the new build of him through the thick woollen cloak he wears. Our cheeks touch for a brief moment, he feels warmer, then I let him go and we make our way back up the stones, he pointing out the new buildings constructed for goods and the guards hiding the warm drinks he brought out for them. I wink at one and he looks embarrassed but the time of strict attention and imminent attack is long gone.  
  
I link his arm as we walk to the throne, he passing me letters that have been sent from Celeborn of East Lórien, Bard II of Dale Thorin III, last seen at the crowning of the King of Gondor in May of last year. Samwise Gamgee has written telling me of Frodo's illness, coming on at the first of this month. He has also married his Rose, who he mentioned on Mid Year's day last, at Arwen and Aragorn's wedding.  
  
"So he went and did it then!" I chuckle and Grima looks up at me. "Sam married Rosie Cotton, he had spoken of her at the King's wedding."  
  
"Perhaps there should be another," comments Thengel with a smile. "Now that things can settle after our times of troubles, you can find a bride."  
  
His smile falters, as I do not immediately respond. I feign to be intensely interested in the letter and remember to merely glance up and smile at him. He was in the Rohirrim with me and knows of certain activities we got up to. I ask him to organise some food and drink for everyone to eat in the Great Hall and I sit and talk with Grima awhile. I tell him of the travels I have made and Eomund approaches, asking of the people of his village near the Mering stream. I can reassure him of their welfare; it is good to give good news of our lands and borders again.  
  
We talk into the night; there are more serving woman around now and Thengel informs me that Grima has added more staff to our Court, which benefits Edoras and the court.  
  
After a period of time in his room at rest, Grima had emerged with plans, which re-stored the stocks of Edoras and supplied the court. The new storeroom had been built at his request and seeds and acorns had been re-planted where they had taken the trees.  
  
"He mentioned the Ents and how they would look after the forest," explained Thengel  
  
"What other plans does he have?"   
  
"A herb garden, to help treat ailments, but we have to wait for a few months for that."   
  
I nod; I am weary, we drove the horses a little harder today to reach home and I need to rest. I climb to my door; Grima's is shut already. Apparently that is unusual; he had been instructing some of the maids in their letters and this brings a smile; I remember his teaching well...  
  
"He still has times where he is unwell, my lord." Eomund states, looking uncomfortable.  
  
"What do you mean?" I rub at my temples wearily.  
  
"The guards have heard crying at night but the screaming has stopped," Thengel explains plainly and I wince. "The first few months you were away was the worst. He could not settle, he seemed to think that you would send him away and he sought you out to explain. It was hard to get him to rest. One of his maids suggested a book for him to write in and this seems to have worked."  
  
"I would not like to read it though," muttered Eomund and I tended to agree. I retired to my room, my body weary but my mind chasing thoughts.  
  
. 


	7. Chpater Seven Warning Slash

*Chapter Seven.* Warning slash   
  
I will not choose a bride, I know that now. To do so would be using the love of a good woman simply for an heir. I cannot, will not do that. How I can take to my side someone I do not truly desire, love, respect? Where would be the nobility in that? I was not that shallow. Truly my love lay with one other. I was now so restless; I would go to him now. Yet my hand shook as I grasped the knob of his door.  
  
Briefly knocking, I went in to find him writing in a journal, his face close to a candle and the golden glow bathing his eyes. I walked over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.  
  
He glanced up, "Are you cold, my lord?"  
  
"No Grima." If I do not move now, I may never do. I quickly kneel and hold his face. He registers some emotion and a dreadful confusion comes over his face before I move forward and kiss him. There is one moment where he seems paralysed, then, timidly, a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. A brief glance shows that his eyes are closed and I stroke his neck as he opens his mouth to move with mine.   
  
I break our kiss very reluctantly and shift a little closer to him so I can kneel between his legs. He has a robe on and some cotton nightshift underneath it. I grasp his hands and move them to my chest, to the ties that close my robe and tentatively he starts to undo them, his hands shake a little and I am reassured that I am not the only nervous one here.  
  
"Perhaps it would be better in your bed, Grima," I murmur and the hands stop moving for a second, then continue to unwrap me.  
  
"As you wish," he says and goes to rise. I hold his arms and sit him down.  
  
"Only if it is your wish also," and he glances up at me. "Why, do you not want me? If I am wrong..."  
  
He starts at that, surprised I think. "No, you are not wrong" he whispers and his hands run down my chest, "It was just, I did not think you..."  
  
I kiss him again and unwrap the robe from around him. His thigh jumps when my hand reaches it and strokes the length of him firmly. His breath becomes ragged and I continue, taking pleasure in the hardness under my hand.  
  
Grima  
  
I had been writing in my journal when he entered my room. The journal had been a great help in sorting the confusion in my mind after the spell. My strength has started to return but there are times where I am still lost and Eomund has to remind me where I am.  
  
Again that unreadable expression as I look up at him; he has walked over to me and his hand shakes as he rests it on my shoulder. Rohan nights are cold, especially with the strong winds that howl around Edoras.   
  
"Are you cold, my lord?"  
  
"No." He kneels beside where I am writing and takes my face in his hand, leans forward and kisses me. His mouth is warm and I raise my hand to his shoulder but I cannot push him away and it rests on a broad shoulder, caressing through the clothes. Oh that warmth, let me feel that a little longer. My eyes close and I melt, trying to move my mouth with his. He stops at that and I inwardly curse my inexperience with this, however he shifts nearer to me, in-between my legs. Bringing my arms to his chest, I struggle a little with the ties at his neck and he suggests moving to the bed. Last time someone was in my bed - but no, Eomer would not hurt me and I reply. But he holds me back, an anxious look on his face - he thinks I would reject him? Again my hands roam his chest as he removes my robe and I jump as his hands move on my leg and...  
  
Pleasure floods me as that insistent, slow movement carries on with one hand as he loosens his clothing with the other, almost tearing at them such is his impatience. A deeper, longer kiss that takes my breath and then he stands, leading me to my bed. I have not known this attention before, the payments to the shadowy women in my past are long forgotten. I lie down and he struggles with his boots before kicking them to the other side of the room. He lies alongside me at first, before sliding on top of me.  
  
Eomer  
  
His slightly worried look tells me he has not experienced this before as I reach down to pull up his robe. A look of shame that pains me crosses his face as I lift it to reveal him and I pull it over his head and kiss him. My previous experience with Theodred was fast and frantic but this must be slower, gentler. He must feel loved.  
  
He is warm and his heart pounds under my hand as it wanders down his chest, followed by my mouth, and he cries out as I take him in my mouth. My hands stroke his legs, caress him and grip him as his gasps become louder. I can taste him as he comes close to his pleasure and I move up him, pulling at his member to help him reach his peak. "My Lord," he gasps and cries out into my shoulder as his stomach dampens with his release. I am so hard for him that it is painful and I paw at my trousers to reach the vial of oil to ease our joining. The fact I had placed it there confirms that I knew tonight would be the night to try and make him see how I felt.  
  
"What would you have me do," he whispers and I kiss him.  
  
"Lie back Grima," and I tug the leggings off and spread the oil. The room sees full of shadow as our shades play on the wall opposite. Mine clumsily clambers on top of his as he looks at me  
  
"I will not hurt you," I murmur and rest my body against his for a little while before positioning his legs at either side of me. Some oil is left and I rub my hands on him, his entrance so that our joining...  
  
I cannot wait and rise into him, his eyes slitted against the pain. I stay still until I am sure I can move without hurting him too much, his warmth, and the feel of him on me means I may not be able to last much longer. I plant my hands next to his face and raise myself to look at him, he is rapidly blinking away tears and I kiss him again. He must know I mean no harm.  
  
I slowly move within him and he gasps and tightens around me. My pleasure is close as I move a little quicker, all the while murmuring his name. My arms slide under him and I press him to me as I move. "My lord," he moans and I quicken, feeling the build up of pleasure within me. He clings to me as my peak is reached and I bury my face in his neck as it ebbs and flows away. We are both panting now as I withdraw from him, lie alongside him and his head rests against my arm. His eyes are dark as he stares up and his breathing steadies as I run my hands over his chest, trace his non-existent eyebrows, kiss his neck. His eyes close as I stroke his nose and this amuses me so I continue, his eyelashes flutter, they are long, I had never noticed that before. His mouth parts a little as his chest slows its steady rise.   
  
I stay there for a little while but common sense decrees I must return to my own room. It is the early hours of the morning. With the riding as well I am exhausted. I carefully gather my clothes and give a last glance at him before leaving. There are more nights to follow this, I am sure of it. I sleep long and deeply.  
  
Grima  
  
I awake at daybreak and he is not there.   
  
I dreamt it, the first pleasant dream in years.   
  
He would not choose me, how could I believe...  
  
There is oil on my leg and dried... fluid on my stomach. Where is my nightshift, my robe? Why are my bedclothes so disarranged? Did...did it happen? He had murmured words of love in my ear. I wanted it to be true, but then I had wanted others to love me and that had been a self-deception, an unattainable dream.  
  
I put on my shift and robe and walked to the connecting door, which was closed. I pushed it slightly so see a sleeping Eomer sprawled on the bed, only partly covered by a sheet. I pull more covers over him and he stirs, sleepily glancing at me before smiling. No grimace, no smirk, just a smile. He pulled me to him, placed his hand on the back of my neck and kissed me.   
  
"A brief moment, Grima, then we must dress, the maids will be here soon. We can return to love tonight," How my heart warms at that. I find it hard to stand as he kisses my neck and my hand reached out to steady myself, only to find his length under my palm.   
  
"Bolt the doors Grima," he states and rolls back lazily, waiting for me.  
  
I must have seemed so clumsy to him, clambering up on top of him as he steadied me, placing his hands on my hips.  
  
"A moment," he says and moves to reaches for the small vial of oil, coating me with it and I moan as I slide into him. He bucks his hips to meet me, whilst he holds my hips; I may be on top but he controls the ride. Enclosed in warmth; I move within him, his hands guiding my aim, my tempo. Pleasure shudders through me as I reach my pleasure and I practically collapse on him as my energy is spent.  
  
A timid knock on the door and I freeze as Eomer throws an teasing look my way -damn him, he did that in lessons - as a small voice belong to the young girl who looks after our rooms calls for the King.   
  
Another gruffer voice answers her and tells her to return.  
  
"The King has ridden a lot lately, he will be tired."  
  
The King is now sat up with his shoulders shaking with mirth as I strain to hear them leave. His member knocks against my leg and this makes him laugh all the harder.  
  
"He is more accurate than he knows," and with that he is helpless with laughter, stuffing his pillow over the lower face so only his eyes laugh back at me. It is infectious and I feel myself chuckle. It would have been disastrous to have them see us as we were but now that the crisis has passed I am relieved and let out a laugh. We are now telling each other to 'hush' and trying not to laugh at the same time. Eventually I remove to my chamber to dress and try to calm down as I hear him chuckle in the next room.  
  
We walk down the stairs at different times, trying to keep our faces smooth and composed. We eat in silence, the King occasionally making a comment to Eomund. Lilith, the young maid who looks after my room approaches and asks about her lesson.  
  
"Of course," I state, "After breakfast, I think."  
  
"I thought you may have been working with the King."  
  
"No, I believe the King will be going riding today," I say as innocently as I can and I hear the spluttering of Eomer from the other end of the table. Lilith gives him a strange look as he tries to swallow and giggle at the same time whilst fiery looks are returned to my calm one. I have had practice in hiding my emotions, admittedly in much worse situations, and he will have to be very crafty to get me to slip.  
  
Still it is a great puzzle to me why he desires me, I who have thirty years on him and nowhere near the same physical attractions. We spend very little time together during the day, I cannot always follow him on horseback riding for long periods of time. I write in my journal, supervise the new building and gardens, eat three substantial meals a day - my hunger has reappeared with my happiness it seems.  
  
But the nights are different. At dusk, after our meal, we walk the tracks of Edoras, sometimes onto the plains outside the town gates. It is the long summer evenings that draw us out, more for the pleasure of not being buffeted by the wind than anything else. There is no physical caresses, no tactile business - that comes later - but I feel closer to him and happier than I have ever known.   
  
I usually retire first, writing my thoughts. Sometimes I am asleep when he comes to my room but more often not and now, in this quiet time, we can embrace. I am surer of what he likes and dislikes me to do. My hands, my mouth produce such pleasure for him that it baffles me; I know I am no prize, no pleasing physical specimen. Yet his breath warms my body when he peaks within me, his arms pull me closer and he does not avert his eyes from my nakedness. Our moans are muted, but no less meant, I am sure and sometimes it takes a mere look from him to reduce me to melting, yet hardening at the same time, and sitting down quickly lest my arousal be seen by all. 


	8. Chapter Eight

*Chapter Eight*  
  
Eomer  
  
Years have passed and life is content for most, happy for a few and ecstatic for me. Aragorn-King is due a visit, as is my sister and brother - I had recently written to her informing her of Meriadoc's new title in the Shire and we had sent gifts - Aragorn had declared the Shire to a free place not to be entered by men but knowing the hobbits they will visit soon enough. Sam is Mayor but has lost the RingBearer, Frodo, who dwells with the Elves now.   
  
Edoras, nay all of Rohan, grows richer with each year. The harvests have good and the necessary repairs have been made at last. Gondor's good fortune grows - their trades with the Dwarves in the protected lands gathers pace. We have passed from night to day, the Shadow has lifted.  
  
And my beloved? A little greyer around the temples and a little thicker around the waist which is the subject of a little teasing (but not much, I remember when he first arrived, and I do not wish to see him gaunt like that again). His blank, frightened periods have long gone, the most recent being a year ago when we camped out. Something frightened him there and he could not sleep until I wrapped both of us in the blanket and held him to me until he became calmer.   
  
But now I recall it was in Fangorn that they found some Orcs. I think that was it.  
  
His journal remains a secret; I only asked about it once. Obviously some painful moments were in there judging from the look on his face and I never asked again.  
  
We have been parted once, when my party made a progress around Rohan to see the people, but that was for a very little time and he remained well during my absence. We were very tired upon my return though.  
  
I am aware of no-one that has guessed of the true nature of our relationship, my gifts to Grima are made at the same time as gifts to others in my court and we take care never to physically express our affection in any way. I am guilty about the deception but glad of the privacy.  
  
We lie together as the night closes in on Rohan.  
  
"The visit is soon, Grima. We have got everything ready, I think."  
  
He murmurs something against my neck and shifts, linking his leg with mine.  
  
"Grima, wake up! "  
  
A hand stretches across my chest and a finger circles my nipple before resting around me.  
  
"Stay here tonight, I can bolt the doors."   
  
"You know I cannot, Grima."  
  
"It would be private enough."  
  
"Lilith nearly saw us one time!"  
  
"I like Lilith," he sleep-murmurs, stroking my chest.  
  
I feel myself drifting but I rouse and move to my bed, which seems very cold.  
  
We cannot be found out now.  
  
Grima  
  
I am in the herb garden, trying to find something that will cure one of the guards' terrible hangover from the ale the night before when they arrive. Arwen walks to me and I am so glad of her company. I did not forget her many kindnesses and we talk for a while before she recommends a herb for a headache and we wander into the Golden Hall.  
  
Eomer is already greeting the King and his sister and brother and I take my leave. I doubt they noticed.  
  
Eomer  
  
Eowyn seems happier than of late and time and two children seem to wrought a rare contentedness. Faramir has barely changed since our last meeting, which I ruefully note. We talk into the night and Grima has retired long since, for I do not see him after the candles are lit and we are seated around the long table.  
  
Eowyn  
  
My brother has not mentioned him once and I have not seen him. Perhaps he finally came to his senses and dismissed him. Maybe he died, I care not. He is a bad memory from my girlhood, I do not dwell there now.  
  
We are staying for a week or so; enough to ride out like we used to and catch up. My children have not seen their uncle and it would do them good to catch up on this side of their lineage. I would have travelled sooner but for that snake; he caused enough trouble when he was here.  
  
We ride out in the morning, talk freely without being overheard by guards. I can truly talk to my brother then.  
  
Eomer cannot find his cloak when we are all ready and I go to find it in his room. He was always misplacing things as a child. Excepting his sword.   
  
His cloak is there, as is a journal and I smile. Eomer hated any sort of missive when he was younger and here he is...  
  
It is not Eomer's. It is Grima's. So he is here. Instinctively I glance to the shadows then curse my fear. It is an irony that he no longer seeks my company, yet I still dread his.   
  
His plans for Eomer will be in here, his plots, and his schemes. Truly this will prove his hatred for Rohan...  
  
I cannot believe what he has written. This liaison with my brother cannot be true. It has to be his perverted lies, my brother would not, could not do such a thing. It is wrong, it cannot be!  
  
Placing the journal down, I grab Eomer's coat - why did that snake have that anyway - and go to ride. I will confront him later. 


	9. Chapter Nine

*Chapter Nine*  
  
Eomer  
  
I can beat Aragorn - on a horse at least. I reached the stream before him, and laughing we made our way back to the rest of the group. I know I would never have beaten Arwen - I am man enough to admit that!  
  
There was so much to talk about; the Fellowship, our friends, our families. I envy them their families but I would not change my choice. Which reminds me - where is he?   
  
I suggest riding back - it is time to eat, then rest awhile - I will see him in his room then surely.  
  
"Try the herb garden," remarks Arwen and I think I blushed. Why can you not shield your thoughts from an Elf?  
  
Eowyn  
  
I wandered out into the gardens after we had eaten. There he was. Different clothes, greying hair but still the same stoop, the whispering walk that allowed him to creep up on anyone he chose...  
  
I pace quietly until I am almost upon him. It is pleasing to finally turn the tables.  
  
"Your diary is full of lies, snake," I murmur and he wheels around, terrified. Such an innocent lost look! I am not taken in.  
  
"Howbeit that you think my brother could lavish affection on you?"  
  
He cannot speak. Such honeyed words he used to speak.  
  
"Your perverted lies will be exposed tonight. I will not let you stay here, where your desires could bring down my brother. Unless you leave."  
  
I turn and walk away. His reaction is of no use; his actions will plan the night ahead.  
  
Grima  
  
I cannot stay. I cannot explain to him, I cannot even tell him. What bitterness would make her plan this course? She does not realise the harm she would do to her brother.  
  
I try and find my journal but she has it; of course, how she expose me without that proof? My older books are still here and I use a back page to write a note for him to find. He has to know why I have gone. I write as best I can and bundle some clothes together. I will go to our camp place in the woods. It is all I can think of to do.  
  
Eomund asks me what I am doing as I ride out. My hurried explanation does not satisfy him by the look on his face, but I cannot explain, even to him. I ride out.  
  
Eomer.  
  
Where is he?! It is unfair to deprive me of his company and I shall tell him so when we meet up. Eowyn has expressed no word against him and I hope that she is not the reason for his absence. He has only met Arwen, but then he adores her and with good reason.  
  
I return to the Great Hall to dine and Eomund is trying to attract my attention. I know I look confused as he walks over to me and Arwen is looking very strangely at Eowyn, who is happy at my table. Events seem to falling away from, yet I know not how.  
  
"Why did you send Grima out today, my lord?"  
  
"Out?" Eowyn glances at me. And I know she has done something.  
  
"When did he leave?"  
  
"After the afternoon meal. He said something about the campsite?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he had to leave after I found out about the journal. You are well rid of him and his perverted lies."  
  
She is shaking, struggling to say this; does she realise what she has done? Incredulous, I stare back at her.  
  
"You should see what he wrote about you, about.."  
  
But she is backing away from me and it is only when Aragorn and Faramir put themselves between us that I realise I am advancing on her,".  
  
"It would be better my lord, if we looked for him," suggests Aragorn, and I turn to go to the stables. Eomund is already there, preparing the horses and we ride to find him.   
  
Aragorn, Eomund, Arwen and myself survey the plains but if he has ridden out to Fangorn then it will be a long journey at night and I note that I feel the cold more. And if I am chilled what of him? How will he cope with this night? Fangorn has held fears for him before; why would he go alone? Why would he not confide in Eomund?  
  
"Eomer," states Aragorn and I realise he must be repeating himself, "A light ahead, I think."  
  
There is, but with two figures near it. Who is that standing over Grima? 


	10. Chapter Ten

Title: After Isenguard - Grima's story  
  
Author: Michelle  
  
Author's Email: michelle.helm@ntlworld.com. Feedback would be much appreciated. Pairings: Grima/Eomer, Eomer/Theodred (implied), Legolas/Gimli (implied  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Grima's life after his escape from Isenguard. Warning:- contained implied rape, abuse.  
  
Dates are in Shire Reckoning, beginning in the winter of 1419  
  
*Chapter One.*  
  
The escape took time, what with the drooling, sadistic orcs - one who haunted me and hurt me constantly it seemed - and Saruman's rages. Eventually, incredibly sore after another night's torment, I rode out of Isenguard. I did not dare look back.  
  
Many days and nights were spent hiding in the forest, until I found an abandoned house to shelter. Finding what food I could. Burning what windfall I found.  
  
The terror of those first nights was hard to re-visit. The War of the Ring took place in the winter, a bitter one that seeped into my bones adding to an already chilled heart. I would huddle over a meagre fire and cringe from the sounds of the forest, hide from the sounds of marching, for no side would want me. Eowyn's words of rejection gnawed at me; I had banished Eomer from the kingdom. Had he and his riders perished? Theoden-King had spoken of leechcraft; how would he receive his former advisor? Saruman's promises had me betray everything and everyone I had known.  
  
Oh, but I was weak! Had I known of the truce between Gondor and Rohan - and the Elves, which surprised me, they being so superior to Menfolk and insular by nature - would I have followed Saruman's entreaties?   
  
If I had resisted him, I could still have been at Theoden's side. Eomer would have joined against Mordor - I still remembered the pain on his face as my henchmen dragged him away - what had possessed me to do that? Through my own stupidity (and here I had prided my self on being so intelligent, superior to the horse riding herd) I had lost everything.  
  
I grew weaker and faint as the days passed, seeing ghostly pale faces at the cracked windows and visitors from my past. Once Theoden came, standing in bloodied armour, looking at me with such pity, I cowered at his feet before he faded before me.   
  
Weeks passed and the sounds of battle that had carried through the forest had stopped. Once fine robes were now torn and sullied from the dirt and I used the black robe to drag food back to my home. It was on one of these expeditions that the Rohirrim Riders found me, coming upon me as I washed my hands and face in the Isen. A sword blade touched the back of my neck and a hand gripped me to raise me.  
  
"King Eomer has business with you, I think,"  
  
Eomer-King? But I barely had time to ponder this before being strapped to a horse and taken to Rohan; a few days ride. The guard seemed surprised at my appetite when I received small portions of bread from them. I was still weak when we arrived at Edoras - still as windy as I remember - the Golden Hall of a new King.  
  
I was dragged up the stone stairway, reflecting that I had last travelled down a sight quicker. I was dropped before a pair of boots whose owner remarked that I would need to be cleaned up before being brought before the King.  
  
A tub was filled in the servant's chamber and my remaining clothes were burnt as I sat in the water. Bruised coloured every limb and my torso was scarred from the orc's claws when... I shuddered.  
  
"The water should be warm enough - get clean!" And a rag was thrown at me as the guard left the room.  
  
I dried and dressed in simpler robes before being taken to see the King. A mere precursor to execution, I thought. The bath was a nice touch, though; I would die cleansed of my crime. My steps faltered and I shook.   
  
We entered the great hall. More braziers burnt, shedding more light than Theoden had known in his stygian gloom. I saw Eomer's feet as they placed me before him. I dared not look up.  
  
Eomer exhaled slowly. He stood a little time, less impatient than before.  
  
"My men caught you some way from Isenguard. Why were you so far away from Saruman?"  
  
My mouth trembled but I could not speak. Shades of grey clouded my vision and I seemed to strain to stand.  
  
"Let us try another question; what am I to do with you?"  
  
"Your uncle would have me hung." I manage to mumble.  
  
"My uncle does not rule though. He died on Pelonnor Fields, slain by the forces of Mordor." I glance and see the fury in his eyes though his expression changes when he sees mine.  
  
"Eowyn fought alongside him. She fought bravely, as good as any man. She is not here either Grima. Do you wish to know why?"  
  
I dread his answer and my head bows lower as he stands and walks about me.  
  
"She is married to Faramir, second son of the Steward of Gondor." I glance at him at that and his face has a pleasant enquiring expression hiding his glee at my pain, no doubt.  
  
"So, my question remains; what am I do with you Grim?" The guards draw forward and his hand bades them stay. His throne doubles in my vision and I stagger. A firm hand grips my elbow.  
  
"When did you last have something to eat?" he asks me, a mingled expression of revulsion and pity on his face.  
  
"I cannot...cannot," and I am led to a chair and long table. Soup and a hunk of bread are placed before me and I manage to eat some, keeping my sight trained on the table.  
  
Eomer.  
  
They did not tell me he looked like this, a wasted frame and a face haunted by several scenes of hell. My words of my uncle and sister strike him to the core and it is this reaction which compels me to spare his life. Before Saruman's influence, he had been an able advisor, a trusted teacher who had sat indulgently smiling at Theodred's games, my antics, Eowyn's songs. Eowyn had read more than us and he had encouraged her; now the mere mention of her name makes his face pale and he can barely stand. My jealousy flares for a moment at his reaction; this is a hellish meeting.  
  
I grab his arm; thin as a bird's wing it shakes in my palm.  
  
"When did you last have something to eat?" I ask him and he can barely stand, yet alone answer. I lead him to the table and someone brings him soup and bread. His hands are still shaking and I have to pass him the spoon.  
  
He is right; the law states execution for treason. Yet I had never known it used and I doubt my uncle did either. Would there be argument if I spared him his life? Would my conscience rest easy if it were carried out? Would I be doing the right thing by pardoning him?  
  
And now that I see him again, even in this state, my ancient feelings stir and yet again I suppress them. Reason must guide my actions, not some unfulfilled crush on my old tutor and guide. I had forgiven the pain when he sent me away; he was bewitched, unknowing. Can I count on my people to forgive him his past now?  
  
He still stares at the wood; very well. My fingers lift his head so that our eyes meet. There is a gash above the paler eye, it needs seeing to.  
  
"You have your quarters next to mine," Reason, Eomer, reason... "so that I may know your whereabouts at all times. There is a Grand Council to convene between Rohan and Gondor, I wish to have a decent scribe who can note down all discussions and help with plans. Other duties will arise as I repair and restore Rohan."  
  
I remove my hand and none is more surprised at my decision than the man before me.  
  
"You were a good advisor before Saruman," I state loudly for everyone's benefit, "and you will be again."  
  
I stand. "Enjoy your meal, counsellor." And I leave the room.  
  
*Chapter Two*  
  
Grima  
  
I did finish my meal slowly, in some kind of dull stupor. I had a second chance although I did not know why. Eomer had shocked me and some of his people no doubt. Yet not a word was said as the guards took me to new quarters; a chamber with two doors, one to the corridor and one to the chamber adjoining. It was spare, but clean and comfortably furnished. The bed was warm as I lay down, shifting to find the best position that did not hurt as much.  
  
Exhaustion overtook me and I slept, oblivious to the nurse's attention to wounds on my face and ointments left for my body. I awoke to dawn's light streaming into the room, the connecting door opened slightly and movement within, splashing and brushing. This alerts me to my own ablutions and I tend to myself, hearing someone enter the room.   
  
"Good, you are up. We eat, then there are maps we need to go over. I want to examine these areas with teams of men able to repair the damage. We need to see what needs replanting - the orcs either ate or burnt a lot."  
  
"At the Council, you could trade goods for expertise. Gondor would probably be eager to combine forces to repair.." I trail off, a curious light appeared at the mention of Gondor. When you have dwelt with a wizard inclined to fly in insanity, you judge reactions very carefully.  
  
"Go on," he prompts.  
  
"You would already have close ties with Gondor. Your sister and brother-in-law no doubt would want to help. Perhaps the ranger could provide..."  
  
I stop again, puzzled at the look of amusement on Eomer's face.   
  
"The Ranger, as you term him, is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Isidur's heir."  
  
"The Ring," I mutter.  
  
"What ring? The Ring of Power was destroyed by the Hobbit."  
  
"Isidur's ring. A hobbit?"  
  
"Come with me to breakfast. You have a lot to catch up on."  
  
I stumble as we walk down the steps leading to the great hall. His hand seems to be burning me; the rest of me feels cold to the bone.   
  
My mind still whirls at the events of yesterday, a day on which I was sure I would die. Yet I am here, restored to counsels' position at the side of king. If the roles were turned, what would I do?   
  
We sit and eat, the King lapsing into silence after a brief retelling of the War of the Ring. I am impressed with the hobbits confrontation with Shelob; the orcs were terrified of her. Others come and go; preparing for a journey. The King is ride out to survey lands; I am to survey the stores and provisions, then to check our records (and knowing Rohan there will be few of those) to see what can be distributed out to the various villages in Rohan who have suffered under the orcs' attacks.   
  
The King rides off, seeming preoccupied with something. With warmth in my belly and a strange feeling within, I bend to my task, walking slowly and noting things to bring to the king's attention.  
  
I have a second chance. And I have identified this new feeling. It is hope.  
  
Eomer.  
  
He did not stir when I went in to him last night, watching him sleep, by necessity waiting till everyone had left me before opening our adjoining door and going in. Terrible dreams racked him; his eyes moving frantically under the lids, threatening to dislodge the bandage that had been placed there earlier. How I felt then! All the feeling from my past threatened to overwhelm me.  
  
Feigning boredom during my lessons, when I would gaze at him as he gazed at Eowyn; and she so indifferent. His eyes used to absorb me; they are different shades of blue and they would alight, as he would tell tales from the past, legends of our forebears.  
  
My uncle respected him, Theodred wished nothing more than to be out riding or fighting and Eowyn used him for knowledge but nothing more. Others in a court despised him, particularly Hama and Gamling, both suspicious of anyone who did not ride out or wield a sword. They were not alone in their opinion. He was different, an exotic fragile frame in the midst of us. I was fascinated by him, then desirous of him. After that one episode with Theodred I wished to show my teacher what else I knew. He had never guessed of my feelings and I had certainly never told anyone else, for to do so would be folly. I was to marry and sire an heir and the rest would take care of itself.  
  
I had stroked his face before I had left his chamber. It was all I could permit myself to do.  
  
My fellow horseman cautiously enquiring as to whether it would be safe to leave Grima back there interrupted my reverie.  
  
" If he fails in his appointed tasks then I will have to consider a suitable punishment. I feel that he has changed since his departure from here. I understand your concern though; I promise you I would not let anyone hurt the kingdom of Rohan."  
  
And with that he had to be content.  
  
IT was a week's journey, during which I kept myself busy. There were many repairs to be done many crops to sow; burial teams to rid the land of heaps of stinking orcs. The nights were terrible, for our sleep was disturbed by orcs who had survived the war but were now starving and desperate. I had already had good practice with my sword at despatching them and I did so again. It was a weary team who returned to Edoras and I hoped that I would find everything in good order.  
  
I was not disappointed and a few of my fellow riders were surprised to see Grima with his many lists and plans. Apparently he had not resorted to his evil ways after all and was working for the good of all. But then Saruman had been killed in the War of the Ring, how I knew not, and Grima had escaped, outrunning the orcs. His abode had been nothing more than a shell when they found him and a week of rest and food had made a small change in his appearance. His face had regained some colour although dark shadows still remained around his eyes. He had stopped talking and now glanced away.  
  
"You have done well Grima. You still do not look well though. Perhaps a ride out tomorrow, some fresh air will be better for you."  
  
He nodded his head and backed off as another came forward with news to tell me of the preparations for the upcoming meeting between Faramir, Aragorn and myself, although I looked forward to seeing my sister the most. A long time it had seemed since the wedding. I ate and glanced after Grima as he left the hall.  
  
My head was filled with thoughts that night and I took myself in hand as I thought of my neighbour next door. My pleasure was interrupted by moans and my first thought was that Grima had decided on the same actions that night, but it was not so. His moans were due to his nightmares and he shrieked as his eyes rolled in their sockets. I grabbed his arms and shook him.  
  
He awoke panicked and full of terror; I cursed my un-gentle methods and tried to calm him before his raised voice brought others to the door.   
  
"Grima, be quiet. You are safe here. Be quiet!"  
  
His wet face looked up at me before turning away but my hands stopped him from moving too far. I released my grip and sat on his bed as he glanced into the embers of the fire, almost out now.  
  
"You did not stay long after the meal," I remarked. He glanced down.  
  
"I still need a lot of rest sire," his voice so quiet I could barely hear him, "and I fear my company is not welcome in the Great Hall."  
  
"Your company is desired by me, Grima," Desired? Dear Eru! "I want someone who knows the workings of the trades, this court. And we have much to do."  
  
I stood up to leave him. "We ride out tomorrow, Grima. Then we shall plan this meeting with the others. There is a lot to organise."  
  
Why was I repeating jobs to do to this man? Surely I could unburden my feelings; he would understand the depth of emotion I felt. I closed our connecting door and sank against it. This confusion, this conflict would have to be resolved. This distraction was robbing my sleep. I never thought that mere days of his presence would re-awaken all these emotions, long suppressed by habit and more pressing matters.  
  
*Chapter Three*  
  
Grima  
  
The King has returned to his chamber. His eyes held an emotion I could not identify. I do not look forward to the horse-ride tomorrow, my riding skills are non-existent and the ride to Isenguard was fueled by fear, not pleasure. Yet I dare not let him down and I trust he will be patient. Tolerance is all I can ask, or expect.  
  
The morning, and I enter his room at his summons. He is stripped to the waist and displays an athletic torso. I admire what I cannot emulate; it is one of the ironies of my life that although I can feel pleasure and passion to either sex, both are repulsed by me. However, I have reconciled myself to that fact, especially after Eowyn's rejection, and content myself merely by glancing at him as he dresses.  
  
We eat and go to the stables, where Eomer lifts me to mount my horse. I do not remember him so tactile but such thoughts are banished as he gallops off and I concentrate on hanging on for dear life, promoting smirks from the Hall guards as I pass.  
  
We ride towards the stream at the foot of the mountains and, seeing my discomfiture, Eomer slows and we trot towards it.  
  
"I was always on some guard duty or other. I had never had time to seek the beauty of this land. That view Grima; what think you?"  
  
"It is beautiful sire, your observations are.."  
  
"It is beautiful will do. Why must you dress up these remarks? You were never so obtuse in your lessons."  
  
A hand raises and instinctively I flinch, the memory of many hurts flash through my mind. But Eomer had been laughing and now his face grew grave. His hand landed gently on the back of my neck and stayed there, warming it."  
  
"Do not think that I would strike you, Grima."   
  
We rode for some time in silence until he remarked; "You remember how to prepare a camp don't you?"  
  
Camp? He said nothing about staying out! At night-time with whatever may be lurking in the shadows? Night-time, when all the night terrors that crowd me cause me to doubt my own sanity? My look of panic is rewarded with a grin before he gallops off and I am forced to follow.  
  
"Should we not return sire?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"The hall would run better with you within, my lord. Surely it would be better to return?"   
  
"The Hall will be fine for one night Grima! Why do you worry?"  
  
By now I am out of breath, my chest hurts and I am trying to stay upright in my saddle. I have not replied and he slows, take my reins as well as my own and we trot slowly to Fangorn Forest where we set up camp. It is much quieter; the Ents now reside at Isenguard and the forest has small voices of its own now. A brace of Coney's, small bitter little things, make a stew and I bring windfall for the small circle of stones; I can remember how to do that at least.  
  
We stretch out by the fire and look up at the stars, as diamonds on velvet.  
  
"I can never remember the names of the constellations Grima." There is a nervous undertone to his voice - he needn't be embarrassed about that surely?  
  
I name them, pointing them out when he leaned closer so that his head was next to mine. Eventually I run out of constellations and I suspect he has fallen asleep. Looking over he has and I wrap him up with the blanket. I move a little closer to the fire and listen to the forest sounds.  
  
"Grima, come here," a sleepy voice says from behind me.  
  
"Go back to sleep my lord,"   
  
"You need the blanket as well, come here."  
  
I shift over and we lie back to back. It takes a long time to settle as the ground is so hard and rustling noises keep me alert for a while.   
  
I am drifting off when something moves on my leg. A slight pause and it moves again. Warmer and slightly braver it moves up further, caressing my side. It feels warm, the fingers are callused but the touch is gentle and feels good...  
  
The fingers?  
  
Eomer is dreaming, that must be it. That could be the only explanation. He shifts and something hard pokes the base of my spine, shifting me forward. It would be his sword, obviously, he would not go unarmed, and saving that his sword is by his side so...  
  
Oh.   
  
Eomer is a well-proportioned man it seems. I have no clue as to behave. He is asleep; he would not behave this way so I must remove myself so that there would be no embarrassment, no tension between us. He must not realise that I have seen him in this state.  
  
I make to slide away and his head nuzzles at my neck and my body is responding. Feelings that have absent for a long, long time flood my body and some intensely pleasurable moments pass with his hands on my body. I sense the stars through slitted eyes and a few gasps escape me. I must be careful not to wake him and ...  
  
What am I doing? I deserve all the names bestowed on me. I move to the fire, feeling deep shame and Eomer rolls forward, banging his nose on the floor and waking up. Two bleary eyes try to focus on me and I urge him to go back to sleep.  
  
"You'll be cold," he replies sullenly and I smile back at him.  
  
"I've been colder that this my lord, I will be fine."  
  
He settles back down, his breathing becoming more regular, not as harsh as before. When my head starts to droop, I crawl back to my space, taking care not to disturb him.   
  
Awake at daybreak, with a chorus of birds, we de-camp and ride back to Edoras and Eomer comments on how quiet I am.  
  
"A little tired my lord, that is all."  
  
"You are not used to the outdoor life, that is all!" Then he stares at me.  
  
"What is it, my lord?"  
  
"Your eye is paler. Go to the apothecary when we get back."  
  
We return and he is busy on some business. My eye is examined and it is some growth over the eye, a thin layer of tissue. It will blind it eventually. I had become so used to the greyness that I did not realise what had happened.   
  
I spend the rest of the day alone in my room. One eye will be totally useless. Will I become totally useless to him? How soon before he casts me out?  
  
Eomer.  
  
I frightened him off. He did not mention last night but I have not seen him all day. It is frustrating beyond belief, he is more nervous than any woman I have been with, that is certain. And yet he sighed in pleasure I am sure of it!  
  
Damn him, I will go and question him. He cannot be so obscure! I question a guard and am told he is in his room. Very well, I will go there. I rise to go and a messenger from Gondor has arrived for the King. I go and greet him, making all the correct responses but my mind is elsewhere, in a small chamber next to mine.  
  
Grima  
  
Eomer arrives well after they have eaten, I am sure. His face is working; he is struggling with something.  
  
I stand. "My lord, I fear I am no use to you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You asked me to visit the apothecary and I visited him. There is a growth on my eye, which will spread. This will render my eye useless. I will understand if you wish me to leave the council, there are other, more able men."  
  
"No." He strides over, lifts my head and stares into my eye.  
  
"There are magnifying glasses and other things that would help - why would you need to leave the council? Why do you assume I would be rid of you?"  
  
"Why would you want me to stay?"  
  
"Ohhhh!" In sheer frustration he grabs handfuls of his hair and paces, dropping his arms.  
  
"You are the most exasperating, frustrating man I know! You jump to absurd conclusions, you have no regard for yourself and think everyone else feels the same way."  
  
Stunned by his exclamation I sit down. "But what I have done..."  
  
"You got away. You did not join the fight against us and I recognised your writing on the note warning us about the troops coming to Pelonnor. Saruman is dead; he cannot harm you any more. We have routed the orcs. No one will be coming for revenge. The past is gone, Grima. We have a future to plan for Rohan and Gondor and all the rest of MiddleEarth. And I wish to do this with you."  
  
He kneels before me so our heads are at the same height. And then he embraces me.  
  
*Chapter Four*  
  
Eomer  
  
He is trembling in my arms but I am not prepared to let go. He must see how things are now. He is not stupid, he never was. His body stiffens, then relaxes into me. Two frail arms encircle me and I can barely feel them. His head rests against mine, his cheek is wet. If I turn I can kiss him, show him properly how I feel.  
  
And now there are voices from the stairwell. I curse and Grima stares at me in surprise.  
  
"My lords, the party from Gondor are on their way! They are near the gates."  
  
I stride into my room and open my door.  
  
"Make sure the gates are open. Arrange for food and drink to be brought to the Hall, I will down to greet them."  
  
Going back to Grima, I find him cleaning his face, his breath still hitching.  
  
"The visitors are here. You must make yourself ready and go down to the Great Hall. I will bring them in. Ensure that there is enough food and drink."  
  
"Why have they come at night?"  
  
"Grima, I do not know. Please, help me here."  
  
I went and stood outside the Great Hall, hoping that Grima's lists and provisions were correct, that our visitors, nay friends, could be well looked after.  
  
They entered the main gate and a burst of light shone out - Grima had placed more logs of the fire and was frantically placing cups about the table. Why was no one helping him? I hid my fury as my guests dismounted and climbed the stone steps.  
  
Gandalf the White, Aragorn-King of Gondor, Arwen Evenstar, quite possibly the fairest elf that ever lived, Eowyn and Faramir the most beloved to me, saving one other. The dwarf and Elf - the dwarves name was Gimli - what was the Elf called?  
  
  
  
I stood racking my brains seeking his name as Gandalf approached and I gave him a hearty embrace. There was much laughter at our meeting; it had been a time since we had been together; Eowyn and Faramir's wedding in fact, it had too long.  
  
"Do we have to give up our weapons this time? I do not think Legolas can be parted from his bow!"  
  
Legolas! Thank you Gimli!  
  
"Of course not, I am sure he will glad to receive lessons from us," I remark and get a round of laughter and a non-too subtle dig in the ribs from my beloved sister. We enter the Hall but Gandalf has already made his way in and is stood over Grima, it seems. He passes his hand over Grima's eyes and Grima is terrified.  
  
Grima  
  
I make my way down to the Hall. This meeting has only been partially planned; they have arrived much earlier than expected. No one can be bothered to move they merely stare with complete indifference. I hope Eomer can give them a few more minutes before they enter.  
  
One has as I bend over the table, setting things out.  
  
"Grima, son of Galmond. You have returned to your former self, it seems."  
  
The white wizard is in front of me. Sheer terror overtakes me and he steps back and raises his hand. He will grip my head, force me down, I was never in Rohan, I am back in Isenguard and he can force me to him in my mouth until I choke...  
  
"No," I manage and my head is full of screams but my speech is a whisper.  
  
"You do not see clearly, it seems," he replies and it is Gandalf, and I am in Rohan. He passes his hands over my vision and everything flows, swims before me.  
  
Eomer is walking towards me with someone else, I cannot make out whom, and Gandalf is guiding me to a seat.  
  
"Let him rest, he has been through too much it seems. He is very weak."  
  
A drink is pressed into my hand and someone helps me drink it. I wish for sleep, just sleep but my vision is clearing now. Was that tapestry across from me so blue before? Why can't I breathe? It is Eomer and Aragorn who are beside me and they each take an arm, ready to guide me upstairs. There are two ladies across from me and their looks could not be more different. One is an Elf, whose eyes are full of compassion and concern. The other is Eowyn, whose very glance wishes me dead.  
  
Eomer.  
  
We carry him between us up the stairs to his chamber. His breath comes in short gasps as we lie him down and he cannot seem to calm down.  
  
"There are medicines in my pack which I can bring. They may help him to sleep."  
  
With that Aragorn disappears and I try to calm him, to get him breathe slower. Both eyes are blue now but they seem full of fear - his look all the time he has been here.  
  
"You planned things well whilst I was away, Grima," I manage, "Now you should rest, re-gather your strength."  
  
I had seen his condition and yet I had set him jobs. What was I thinking? He needed time...But then, what had Gandalf done to him?  
  
"I thought he'd come back, I would be hurt."  
  
"They are all back, Grima. You are safe here."  
  
"I thought I was back in Isenguard. I thought he would make me do that again. I cannot do that. Please my lord..."  
  
His voice rises in panic and his hands clutch at my robe. I am confused as to what he means and his begging breaks me. I hold him to me repeating my words to reassure him and Aragorn returns. He makes up a draught that we get Grima to drink and Aragorn goes back to see to the others. I envy him his calm; nothing seems to disrupt him and I wonder if I could ever rule with the same serenity. The draught seems to be working as Grima slums against but one phrase follows him to his sleep that chills me.  
  
"All the pain came back."  
  
I give him a few more minutes but he doesn't stir and wearily I make my way downstairs. They are deep in conversation by the fire, save for Eowyn who glares at me. Aragorn notices the look and glances at me. You'll have trouble there, he tells me and I concur. It has been a long week.  
  
We go to our chambers and I visit Grima who is in the same position as I left him. The sleeping draught has worked well it seems.  
  
"He suffered many tortures and abuses at Isenguard," was all Gandalf would tell us. Was that a sign of satisfaction I saw on my sister's face? It looked so ugly.   
  
"He done more to rid MiddleEarth of evil than you know," he continued, looking directly at me.  
  
When Grima is better, I must discuss this with him. Or would it be better to let him forget? Would I be doing more harm re-living the past? Or should he tell and air out all that has happened, to rid him of those memories that poison his mind? I am at a loss and Gandalf takes me to one side.  
  
"His body is improving slowly but it has many months since he had decent lodgings and at his age it will take longer to recover. His mind is troubled too much by the past and he needs rest and company to get through this."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"A healing spell, a powerful one. He is exhausted though but he will take rest now that his many hurts are gone."  
  
"Could you rid him of those memories, cause him to forget?"  
  
Gandalf held up a hand.  
  
"I cannot and should not do that Eomer. He needs to know what he has experienced and survived. He cannot live half a life, no- none can."  
  
His stare was intense. I knew a statement when it applied to me as well.  
  
"He will come through this period the stronger for it, providing he can rest now, with kinder company than he has known."  
  
"What happened to him at Isenguard, Gandalf?"  
  
"He was used and cast aside as well you know. Surely his scars are clear to you Eomer?"  
  
A long pause.  
  
"Saruman's corruption by power was worse than I knew."  
  
Grima's sleep was deep and dreamless as far as I could tell for I watched awhile as he slept. My mind stirred with my thoughts about him, the plans for Rohan and Gondor, how things would be between my sister and me. Her coldness, nay hatred for Grima was there still vibrant and strong. She would see my taking him in as a betrayal after what Saruman had done through him to my uncle.  
  
He had been besotted with her as I was with him, and the memory of that caused no little pain. I had accepted that as I had tried to squash my feelings and concentrate of my work, my duties, trying the pleasures of the flesh with many a willing maiden in my youth. Then the War had overtaken all else, watching my sister hurt in more ways than one, my country men killed, my uncle...   
  
I leaned against the cool stone and pressed my forehead to it. So much loss. So much loneliness. So much to make and re-build. Again I cursed Saruman and Sauron.  
  
I wandered back to my room, leaving the door ajar; I doubted whether I would sleep much that night. Grima would have no doubt made a list; numbered the tasks to be done in a methodical way...  
  
Drifting now, in spite of everything, my mind wandered back to the camp and my explorations by the fire. He needed to put on weight, yet he seemed exotic to my touch, not the typical brawny build of Rohan, but the spare, bird-like frame, those blue eyes staring at the stars as he held his breath. My palm had moved gently over his hardness and his breath had been released in a long, shuddering sigh. Then he had moved, going to the fire, biting his lip and looking upset. He had told me to go back to sleep and ...  
  
Had he thought me asleep? Was that it? And I would have to wait awhile before asking him; it would not do to rouse him, upset him in this state. He had looked guilty...He wasn't guilty...  
  
A soft voice woke me from his room. Arwen had brought him some food and drink and was talking softly to him as he tried to apologise for the previous night.  
  
"I was just thanking Grima for his arrangements," she stated as she turned to smile back at him. His breath grew laboured as he tried to sit up and I helped him.  
  
"You should have something to eat, you did not have much yesterday. You need to rest." I sat down at one side of him as he drank and Arwen rose.  
  
"I will come back and see you later Grima, I am sure the King would not mind that." She touched his hand briefly before she departed and he looked up at her with such a besotted expression that I felt envious. Would that he would look at me... I exhaled slowly and he paused in his drinking.  
  
"What ails you, my lord?"  
  
How could I explain? I smiled at him. "Nothing for you to worry about. Gandalf's spell should have helped the aches and pains you had, but he says you need a lot of rest."  
  
"The plans, you wanted me to..."  
  
"We will carry on with them. We discussed most of your plans last night and Rohan and Gondor will carry them out. You are to get well."  
  
Before I knew it, I was caressing his face. "Do not worry."  
  
Arwen's drink had helped him sleep and others who I appointed to nurse him reported back to me. I would be busy organising and going around Rohan. I could only trust to them now.  
  
To my great surprise, Eowyn took up a tray of food to him in the evening and was gone a while. She returned smiling slightly, the first time since she had seen Grima. She had seen the change in him and I could relax.   
  
*Chapter Five.*  
  
Grima  
  
I had spent most of the day asleep it seems. Two maids had come and helped me wash in the morning. I have felt so weary, the wizard's spell had stopped the hurting but the pain of memories had come back. Arwen had come and sat with, reading from one of the old favourites from the library and I had been lulled by her soft voice. Aragorn is a lucky man.  
  
A soft sound and a light weight sat on my bed at dusk; twilight was coming earlier now. I opened my eyes, expecting the fair elf. To my great surprise, I found Eowyn with a soft smile that never reached her eyes. There was some amusement there but none for my benefit. Here was someone who dearly hated me and I was afraid. I had once loved this woman and that love had been my undoing, and my past actions seem about to be re-paid with interest.  
  
A tray was laid across me with the evening meal on it. The heat seared through the sheet, hurting my legs. I did not dare to move. Her voice was low and calm.  
  
"Did Saruman follow you constantly snake? Did he pour poisoned words into your ear at every turn? Haunt you from the shadows to make you fearful of the dark?"  
  
"I did not know that I made you frightened..." I panted up at her. Images were clouding my mind and her fingernails digging into my arms brought me back.  
  
"Fear was not my intent, my lady!" I was begging now but it made no difference.  
  
"I was never your lady! Never! How could you think that you worm? When my brother comes to his senses he will abandon you like you abandoned us. Do you think people have forgotten what you did? You cringe there with your scars and strangers pity you but we know different." Such scorn, such bitter bile from her...  
  
I made the mistake of glancing away and her hand locked around my jaw and forced me back.   
  
"Your tears should scald you Wormtongue, you spared no pity when you galloped to Saruman. You should have begged for forgiveness and yet you ran like the coward you are. You could not fight to help defend us. I fought, Worm. Now I have turned to healing but I will not heal you. What was your reward Grima? What did you get when you could not stare after me?"  
  
My reward?  
  
The nights in the dungeons of the Tower, the spiteful leering idiotic orcs, Saruman's frustration taken out on his failed spy. I had done it all for her and she hated me for it. No one wanted me, no one liked me, I was a liar, and thief and Rohan's losses made me a murderer. I would die unloved and as unwanted as when I was born. What did I get? A queue of creatures ready to hurt me; the orc pounding into me as Saruman grinned and waited his turn.  
  
I fall out of the bed and crawl away from her as she backs away, she did not expect this, it seems. But as I wrap my arms around myself and rock she drifts away, it all drifts away and I know nothing.   
  
I could not see, I could not speak and when I finally came to my senses I was on the floor in the corner. My legs were red from the heat and a fan of blue bruises lay on each arm with four red crescents behind them. I crawled to my king's door but he was not there. Despair overtook me and I knelt with my forehead pressed against the stone.  
  
Eomer  
  
It was late when I returned to my room, pausing to wash before noticing a heap on the floor.   
  
No. No, no no! Why had he crawled here? He was supposed to rest, be peaceful. I turn him over and his arms are tacky, sticky with something and in the gloom I see the dark brown of blood. There are painful flaps gouged out of his skin, red half moons caused by...  
  
Eowyn.  
  
Her smile was one of revenge.  
  
I will not forgive this.  
  
His eyes will not even focus on mine, they roll back. I lay him on my bed. There are angry red patches on his legs and a glance into his room confirms that the food was split over him at some point, the sheets are stained with it. I clean his arms as best I can. He is so silent, so still! I am not handling anything living here. His condition frightens me.  
  
"Grima, speak! Tell me."  
  
He merely looks at me, lost. I go to pick him up to place him back in his own bed and he grips me, staring back at me. I give in and place him in mine, kick off my shoes and slide in next to him. I do not sleep that night but he does. His dreams are bad and I curse my sister.  
  
I rise and leave him in bed, asking the guard in the corridor to summon the maidens to clear his room. I find Arwen in the corridor, going toward his room and I direct her to mine.  
  
" I knew something had happened," was all she would say and leaning over him, she murmured a few words of Elvish whilst holding his arms. I had forgotten that she had descended from a great line of healers. If anyone could help him, she could.  
  
I had other things to attend to. The ride out and the organising of rations to sort. And Eowyn. How can I stand to ride out with her? How can I leave him?  
  
*Chapter Six.*  
  
We set off, after I have issued further instructions to nurses and guards, to cooks and stores for the care of Edoras whilst I am gone. We take enough provisions to conduct a good survey. I must care for all my people and be seen to do so. Despite everything that has gone on I have to leave. Aragorn understands this and he sees that I am troubled by something else but he stays silent on this point. Legolas and Gimli (how I envy their easy relationship) have long since left and I travel with Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and her. We have barely spoken. I cannot stand to see that contemptuous look, that secretive little smile of hers. But we both have secrets and I know what she has done. The past Grima, that corrupted evil worm, would have deserved it, I suppose, but this one. No. No, Eowyn was wrong with her wrath.  
  
The year turns to 1420, my twenty third year, and our travels continue. The months seem long away from Edoras.  
  
"It is late, Eomer. Why do you sit late into the night? Your plans have well so far and your people love you for the pains you take to serve them. You have their respect and this bodes well for the future."  
  
Aragorn looked at me intently.  
  
"I am worried for the health of my counsellor." There. It is stated plainly. I stare into the night.  
  
"He had been corrupted but he is different now, yet I can't get anyone else to see this."  
  
"Perhaps now that they have seen the effect of Gandalf's spell..."  
  
"I hope. Yet Eowyn could not see it when.." I bite my lip but he nods.  
  
"Arwen told me of his wounds. It seems there are wounds of Eowyn's that will not heal with regard to him. Yet I think she regrets hers actions now, she seems troubled and confused. Her role keeps changing with regard to Rohan and Gondor. It is not pleasing to her; she is yet to find solid ground under her feet."  
  
"I thought her happy with Faramir?"  
  
"She is happier but still unsure of her fate, her role, as you are unsure of Grima's role in your life. I think he is more to you than a good counsel."  
  
I look back at him, then nod. It is hopeless to deny what he knows.  
  
"You cannot live half a life. But it will cause you great difficulty in your role if you choose him over a son and heir. People will question why you do not marry and they will guess the reason. He could be the source of great resentment in the court through no fault of his own. But I know you are already thinking of this."  
  
He squeezed my shoulder as he got up.  
  
"Take some rest, Eomer. There is a lot to do, still." He sighed harshly.  
  
"It is weary work," I agree.  
  
It takes some months to complete the tour, Eowyn and Faramir ride back to Ithilien whilst Aragorn and I carry on with the survey before Aragorn and Arwen continue to Gondor with their Company. We pledge to meet again in six months, when the worst of the winter is over, and I can head back to the Golden Hall, to see how things are there. I hope my instructions have been followed, I hope Edoras fares well. And Grima.  
  
We approach the gates to see a small figure hand two things to the guards then stay at the top of the stairwell. We ride through the gates and I gallop towards the stairway as it starts to make its way down. I dismount and he is there. I stand by my horse and he dips his head as I approach, then glances up at me. I embrace him, feeling the new build of him through the thick woollen cloak he wears. Our cheeks touch for a brief moment, he feels warmer, then I let him go and we make our way back up the stones, he pointing out the new buildings constructed for goods and the guards hiding the warm drinks he brought out for them. I wink at one and he looks embarrassed but the time of strict attention and imminent attack is long gone.  
  
I link his arm as we walk to the throne, he passing me letters that have been sent from Celeborn of East Lórien, Bard II of Dale Thorin III, last seen at the crowning of the King of Gondor in May of last year. Samwise Gamgee has written telling me of Frodo's illness, coming on at the first of this month. He has also married his Rose, who he mentioned on Mid Year's day last, at Arwen and Aragorn's wedding.  
  
"So he went and did it then!" I chuckle and Grima looks up at me. "Sam married Rosie Cotton, he had spoken of her at the King's wedding."  
  
"Perhaps there should be another," comments Thengel with a smile. "Now that things can settle after our times of troubles, you can find a bride."  
  
His smile falters, as I do not immediately respond. I feign to be intensely interested in the letter and remember to merely glance up and smile at him. He was in the Rohirrim with me and knows of certain activities we got up to. I ask him to organise some food and drink for everyone to eat in the Great Hall and I sit and talk with Grima awhile. I tell him of the travels I have made and Eomund approaches, asking of the people of his village near the Mering stream. I can reassure him of their welfare; it is good to give good news of our lands and borders again.  
  
We talk into the night; there are more serving woman around now and Thengel informs me that Grima has added more staff to our Court, which benefits Edoras and the court.  
  
After a period of time in his room at rest, Grima had emerged with plans, which re-stored the stocks of Edoras and supplied the court. The new storeroom had been built at his request and seeds and acorns had been re-planted where they had taken the trees.  
  
"He mentioned the Ents and how they would look after the forest," explained Thengel  
  
"What other plans does he have?"   
  
"A herb garden, to help treat ailments, but we have to wait for a few months for that."   
  
I nod; I am weary, we drove the horses a little harder today to reach home and I need to rest. I climb to my door; Grima's is shut already. Apparently that is unusual; he had been instructing some of the maids in their letters and this brings a smile; I remember his teaching well...  
  
"He still has times where he is unwell, my lord." Eomund states, looking uncomfortable.  
  
"What do you mean?" I rub at my temples wearily.  
  
"The guards have heard crying at night but the screaming has stopped," Thengel explains plainly and I wince. "The first few months you were away was the worst. He could not settle, he seemed to think that you would send him away and he sought you out to explain. It was hard to get him to rest. One of his maids suggested a book for him to write in and this seems to have worked."  
  
"I would not like to read it though," muttered Eomund and I tended to agree. I retired to my room, my body weary but my mind chasing thoughts.  
  
*Chapter Seven.*  
  
I will not choose a bride, I know that now. To do so would be using the love of a good woman simply for an heir. I cannot, will not do that. How I can take to my side someone I do not truly desire, love, respect? Where would be the nobility in that? I was not that shallow. Truly my love lay with one other. I was now so restless; I would go to him now. Yet my hand shook as I grasped the knob of his door.  
  
Briefly knocking, I went in to find him writing in a journal, his face close to a candle and the golden glow bathing his eyes. I walked over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.  
  
He glanced up, "Are you cold, my lord?"  
  
"No Grima." If I do not move now, I may never do. I quickly kneel and hold his face. He registers some emotion and a dreadful confusion comes over his face before I move forward and kiss him. There is one moment where he seems paralysed, then, timidly, a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. A brief glance shows that his eyes are closed and I stroke his neck as he opens his mouth to move with mine.   
  
I break our kiss very reluctantly and shift a little closer to him so I can kneel between his legs. He has a robe on and some cotton nightshift underneath it. I grasp his hands and move them to my chest, to the ties that close my robe and tentatively he starts to undo them, his hands shake a little and I am reassured that I am not the only nervous one here.  
  
"Perhaps it would be better in your bed, Grima," I murmur and the hands stop moving for a second, then continue to unwrap me.  
  
"As you wish," he says and goes to rise. I hold his arms and sit him down.  
  
"Only if it is your wish also," and he glances up at me. "Why, do you not want me? If I am wrong..."  
  
He starts at that, surprised I think. "No, you are not wrong" he whispers and his hands run down my chest, "It was just, I did not think you..."  
  
I kiss him again and unwrap the robe from around him. His thigh jumps when my hand reaches it and strokes the length of him firmly. His breath becomes ragged and I continue, taking pleasure in the hardness under my hand.  
  
Grima  
  
I had been writing in my journal when he entered my room. The journal had been a great help in sorting the confusion in my mind after the spell. My strength has started to return but there are times where I am still lost and Eomund has to remind me where I am.  
  
Again that unreadable expression as I look up at him; he has walked over to me and his hand shakes as he rests it on my shoulder. Rohan nights are cold, especially with the strong winds that howl around Edoras.   
  
"Are you cold, my lord?"  
  
"No." He kneels beside where I am writing and takes my face in his hand, leans forward and kisses me. His mouth is warm and I raise my hand to his shoulder but I cannot push him away and it rests on a broad shoulder, caressing through the clothes. Oh that warmth, let me feel that a little longer. My eyes close and I melt, trying to move my mouth with his. He stops at that and I inwardly curse my inexperience with this, however he shifts nearer to me, in-between my legs. Bringing my arms to his chest, I struggle a little with the ties at his neck and he suggests moving to the bed. Last time someone was in my bed - but no, Eomer would not hurt me and I reply. But he holds me back, an anxious look on his face - he thinks I would reject him? Again my hands roam his chest as he removes my robe and I jump as his hands move on my leg and...  
  
Pleasure floods me as that insistent, slow movement carries on with one hand as he loosens his clothing with the other, almost tearing at them such is his impatience. A deeper, longer kiss that takes my breath and then he stands, leading me to my bed. I have not known this attention before, the payments to the shadowy women in my past are long forgotten. I lie down and he struggles with his boots before kicking them to the other side of the room. He lies alongside me at first, before sliding on top of me.  
  
Eomer  
  
His slightly worried look tells me he has not experienced this before as I reach down to pull up his robe. A look of shame that pains me crosses his face as I lift it to reveal him and I pull it over his head and kiss him. My previous experience with Theodred was fast and frantic but this must be slower, gentler. He must feel loved.  
  
He is warm and his heart pounds under my hand as it wanders down his chest, followed by my mouth, and he cries out as I take him in my mouth. My hands stroke his legs, caress him and grip him as his gasps become louder. I can taste him as he comes close to his pleasure and I move up him, pulling at his member to help him reach his peak. "My Lord," he gasps and cries out into my shoulder as his stomach dampens with his release. I am so hard for him that it is painful and I paw at my trousers to reach the vial of oil to ease our joining. The fact I had placed it there confirms that I knew tonight would be the night to try and make him see how I felt.  
  
"What would you have me do," he whispers and I kiss him.  
  
"Lie back Grima," and I tug the leggings off and spread the oil. The room sees full of shadow as our shades play on the wall opposite. Mine clumsily clambers on top of his as he looks at me  
  
"I will not hurt you," I murmur and rest my body against his for a little while before positioning his legs at either side of me. Some oil is left and I rub my hands on him, his entrance so that our joining...  
  
I cannot wait and rise into him, his eyes slitted against the pain. I stay still until I am sure I can move without hurting him too much, his warmth, and the feel of him on me means I may not be able to last much longer. I plant my hands next to his face and raise myself to look at him, he is rapidly blinking away tears and I kiss him again. He must know I mean no harm.  
  
I slowly move within him and he gasps and tightens around me. My pleasure is close as I move a little quicker, all the while murmuring his name. My arms slide under him and I press him to me as I move. "My lord," he moans and I quicken, feeling the build up of pleasure within me. He clings to me as my peak is reached and I bury my face in his neck as it ebbs and flows away. We are both panting now as I withdraw from him, lie alongside him and his head rests against my arm. His eyes are dark as he stares up and his breathing steadies as I run my hands over his chest, trace his non-existent eyebrows, kiss his neck. His eyes close as I stroke his nose and this amuses me so I continue, his eyelashes flutter, they are long, I had never noticed that before. His mouth parts a little as his chest slows its steady rise.   
  
I stay there for a little while but common sense decrees I must return to my own room. It is the early hours of the morning. With the riding as well I am exhausted. I carefully gather my clothes and give a last glance at him before leaving. There are more nights to follow this, I am sure of it. I sleep long and deeply.  
  
Grima  
  
I awake at daybreak and he is not there.   
  
I dreamt it, the first pleasant dream in years.   
  
He would not choose me, how could I believe...  
  
There is oil on my leg and dried... fluid on my stomach. Where is my nightshift, my robe? Why are my bedclothes so disarranged? Did...did it happen? He had murmured words of love in my ear. I wanted it to be true, but then I had wanted others to love me and that had been a self-deception, an unattainable dream.  
  
I put on my shift and robe and walked to the connecting door, which was closed. I pushed it slightly so see a sleeping Eomer sprawled on the bed, only partly covered by a sheet. I pull more covers over him and he stirs, sleepily glancing at me before smiling. No grimace, no smirk, just a smile. He pulled me to him, placed his hand on the back of my neck and kissed me.   
  
"A brief moment, Grima, then we must dress, the maids will be here soon. We can return to love tonight," How my heart warms at that. I find it hard to stand as he kisses my neck and my hand reached out to steady myself, only to find his length under my palm.   
  
"Bolt the doors Grima," he states and rolls back lazily, waiting for me.  
  
I must have seemed so clumsy to him, clambering up on top of him as he steadied me, placing his hands on my hips.  
  
"A moment," he says and moves to reaches for the small vial of oil, coating me with it and I moan as I slide into him. He bucks his hips to meet me, whilst he holds my hips; I may be on top but he controls the ride. Enclosed in warmth; I move within him, his hands guiding my aim, my tempo. Pleasure shudders through me as I reach my pleasure and I practically collapse on him as my energy is spent.  
  
A timid knock on the door and I freeze as Eomer throws an teasing look my way -damn him, he did that in lessons - as a small voice belong to the young girl who looks after our rooms calls for the King.   
  
Another gruffer voice answers her and tells her to return.  
  
"The King has ridden a lot lately, he will be tired."  
  
The King is now sat up with his shoulders shaking with mirth as I strain to hear them leave. His member knocks against my leg and this makes him laugh all the harder.  
  
"He is more accurate than he knows," and with that he is helpless with laughter, stuffing his pillow over the lower face so only his eyes laugh back at me. It is infectious and I feel myself chuckle. It would have been disastrous to have them see us as we were but now that the crisis has passed I am relieved and let out a laugh. We are now telling each other to 'hush' and trying not to laugh at the same time. Eventually I remove to my chamber to dress and try to calm down as I hear him chuckle in the next room.  
  
We walk down the stairs at different times, trying to keep our faces smooth and composed. We eat in silence, the King occasionally making a comment to Eomund. Lilith, the young maid who looks after my room approaches and asks about her lesson.  
  
"Of course," I state, "After breakfast, I think."  
  
"I thought you may have been working with the King."  
  
"No, I believe the King will be going riding today," I say as innocently as I can and I hear the spluttering of Eomer from the other end of the table. Lilith gives him a strange look as he tries to swallow and giggle at the same time whilst fiery looks are returned to my calm one. I have had practice in hiding my emotions, admittedly in much worse situations, and he will have to be very crafty to get me to slip.  
  
Still it is a great puzzle to me why he desires me, I who have thirty years on him and nowhere near the same physical attractions. We spend very little time together during the day, I cannot always follow him on horseback riding for long periods of time. I write in my journal, supervise the new building and gardens, eat three substantial meals a day - my hunger has reappeared with my happiness it seems.  
  
But the nights are different. At dusk, after our meal, we walk the tracks of Edoras, sometimes onto the plains outside the town gates. It is the long summer evenings that draw us out, more for the pleasure of not being buffeted by the wind than anything else. There is no physical caresses, no tactile business - that comes later - but I feel closer to him and happier than I have ever known.   
  
I usually retire first, writing my thoughts. Sometimes I am asleep when he comes to my room but more often not and now, in this quiet time, we can embrace. I am surer of what he likes and dislikes me to do. My hands, my mouth produce such pleasure for him that it baffles me; I know I am no prize, no pleasing physical specimen. Yet his breath warms my body when he peaks within me, his arms pull me closer and he does not avert his eyes from my nakedness. Our moans are muted, but no less meant, I am sure and sometimes it takes a mere look from him to reduce me to melting, yet hardening at the same time, and sitting down quickly lest my arousal be seen by all.  
  
*Chapter Eight*  
  
Eomer  
  
Years have passed and life is content for most, happy for a few and ecstatic for me. Aragorn-King is due a visit, as is my sister and brother - I had recently written to her informing her of Meriadoc's new title in the Shire and we had sent gifts - Aragorn had declared the Shire to a free place not to be entered by men but knowing the hobbits they will visit soon enough. Sam is Mayor but has lost the RingBearer, Frodo, who dwells with the Elves now.   
  
Edoras, nay all of Rohan, grows richer with each year. The harvests have good and the necessary repairs have been made at last. Gondor's good fortune grows - their trades with the Dwarves in the protected lands gathers pace. We have passed from night to day, the Shadow has lifted.  
  
And my beloved? A little greyer around the temples and a little thicker around the waist which is the subject of a little teasing (but not much, I remember when he first arrived, and I do not wish to see him gaunt like that again). His blank, frightened periods have long gone, the most recent being a year ago when we camped out. Something frightened him there and he could not sleep until I wrapped both of us in the blanket and held him to me until he became calmer.   
  
But now I recall it was in Fangorn that they found some Orcs. I think that was it.  
  
His journal remains a secret; I only asked about it once. Obviously some painful moments were in there judging from the look on his face and I never asked again.  
  
We have been parted once, when my party made a progress around Rohan to see the people, but that was for a very little time and he remained well during my absence. We were very tired upon my return though.  
  
I am aware of no-one that has guessed of the true nature of our relationship, my gifts to Grima are made at the same time as gifts to others in my court and we take care never to physically express our affection in any way. I am guilty about the deception but glad of the privacy.  
  
We lie together as the night closes in on Rohan.  
  
"The visit is soon, Grima. We have got everything ready, I think."  
  
He murmurs something against my neck and shifts, linking his leg with mine.  
  
"Grima, wake up! "  
  
A hand stretches across my chest and a finger circles my nipple before resting around me.  
  
"Stay here tonight, I can bolt the doors."   
  
"You know I cannot, Grima."  
  
"It would be private enough."  
  
"Lilith nearly saw us one time!"  
  
"I like Lilith," he sleep-murmurs, stroking my chest.  
  
I feel myself drifting but I rouse and move to my bed, which seems very cold.  
  
We cannot be found out now.  
  
Grima  
  
I am in the herb garden, trying to find something that will cure one of the guards' terrible hangover from the ale the night before when they arrive. Arwen walks to me and I am so glad of her company. I did not forget her many kindnesses and we talk for a while before she recommends a herb for a headache and we wander into the Golden Hall.  
  
Eomer is already greeting the King and his sister and brother and I take my leave. I doubt they noticed.  
  
Eomer  
  
Eowyn seems happier than of late and time and two children seem to wrought a rare contentedness. Faramir has barely changed since our last meeting, which I ruefully note. We talk into the night and Grima has retired long since, for I do not see him after the candles are lit and we are seated around the long table.  
  
Eowyn  
  
My brother has not mentioned him once and I have not seen him. Perhaps he finally came to his senses and dismissed him. Maybe he died, I care not. He is a bad memory from my girlhood, I do not dwell there now.  
  
We are staying for a week or so; enough to ride out like we used to and catch up. My children have not seen their uncle and it would do them good to catch up on this side of their lineage. I would have travelled sooner but for that snake; he caused enough trouble when he was here.  
  
We ride out in the morning, talk freely without being overheard by guards. I can truly talk to my brother then.  
  
Eomer cannot find his cloak when we are all ready and I go to find it in his room. He was always misplacing things as a child. Excepting his sword.   
  
His cloak is there, as is a journal and I smile. Eomer hated any sort of missive when he was younger and here he is...  
  
It is not Eomer's. It is Grima's. So he is here. Instinctively I glance to the shadows then curse my fear. It is an irony that he no longer seeks my company, yet I still dread his.   
  
His plans for Eomer will be in here, his plots, and his schemes. Truly this will prove his hatred for Rohan...  
  
I cannot believe what he has written. This liaison with my brother cannot be true. It has to be his perverted lies, my brother would not, could not do such a thing. It is wrong, it cannot be!  
  
Placing the journal down, I grab Eomer's coat - why did that snake have that anyway - and go to ride. I will confront him later.  
  
*Chapter Nine*  
  
Eomer  
  
I can beat Aragorn - on a horse at least. I reached the stream before him, and laughing we made our way back to the rest of the group. I know I would never have beaten Arwen - I am man enough to admit that!  
  
There was so much to talk about; the Fellowship, our friends, our families. I envy them their families but I would not change my choice. Which reminds me - where is he?   
  
I suggest riding back - it is time to eat, then rest awhile - I will see him in his room then surely.  
  
"Try the herb garden," remarks Arwen and I think I blushed. Why can you not shield your thoughts from an Elf?  
  
Eowyn  
  
I wandered out into the gardens after we had eaten. There he was. Different clothes, greying hair but still the same stoop, the whispering walk that allowed him to creep up on anyone he chose...  
  
I pace quietly until I am almost upon him. It is pleasing to finally turn the tables.  
  
"Your diary is full of lies, snake," I murmur and he wheels around, terrified. Such an innocent lost look! I am not taken in.  
  
"Howbeit that you think my brother could lavish affection on you?"  
  
He cannot speak. Such honeyed words he used to speak.  
  
"Your perverted lies will be exposed tonight. I will not let you stay here, where your desires could bring down my brother. Unless you leave."  
  
I turn and walk away. His reaction is of no use; his actions will plan the night ahead.  
  
Grima  
  
I cannot stay. I cannot explain to him, I cannot even tell him. What bitterness would make her plan this course? She does not realise the harm she would do to her brother.  
  
I try and find my journal but she has it; of course, how she expose me without that proof? My older books are still here and I use a back page to write a note for him to find. He has to know why I have gone. I write as best I can and bundle some clothes together. I will go to our camp place in the woods. It is all I can think of to do.  
  
Eomund asks me what I am doing as I ride out. My hurried explanation does not satisfy him by the look on his face, but I cannot explain, even to him. I ride out.  
  
Eomer.  
  
Where is he?! It is unfair to deprive me of his company and I shall tell him so when we meet up. Eowyn has expressed no word against him and I hope that she is not the reason for his absence. He has only met Arwen, but then he adores her and with good reason.  
  
I return to the Great Hall to dine and Eomund is trying to attract my attention. I know I look confused as he walks over to me and Arwen is looking very strangely at Eowyn, who is happy at my table. Events seem to falling away from, yet I know not how.  
  
"Why did you send Grima out today, my lord?"  
  
"Out?" Eowyn glances at me. And I know she has done something.  
  
"When did he leave?"  
  
"After the afternoon meal. He said something about the campsite?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he had to leave after I found out about the journal. You are well rid of him and his perverted lies."  
  
She is shaking, struggling to say this; does she realise what she has done? Incredulous, I stare back at her.  
  
"You should see what he wrote about you, about.."  
  
But she is backing away from me and it is only when Aragorn and Faramir put themselves between us that I realise I am advancing on her,".  
  
"It would be better my lord, if we looked for him," suggests Aragorn, and I turn to go to the stables. Eomund is already there, preparing the horses and we ride to find him.   
  
Aragorn, Eomund, Arwen and myself survey the plains but if he has ridden out to Fangorn then it will be a long journey at night and I note that I feel the cold more. And if I am chilled what of him? How will he cope with this night? Fangorn has held fears for him before; why would he go alone? Why would he not confide in Eomund?  
  
"Eomer," states Aragorn and I realise he must be repeating himself, "A light ahead, I think."  
  
There is, but with two figures near it. Who is that standing over Grima?  
  
*Chapter Ten*  
  
Grima  
  
I ride out to the forest, hoping I would not have to stay there too long before Eomer would come for me. But then, would he after Eowyn had made her accusations? Why had I never confided in him about my journals? Why had I kept secrets from him? Surely he would know that I would never write anything against him; but he loves his sister, she could influence him.  
  
I decide not to venture too far into Fangorn, the trees' whispering still intimidates me somewhat. A warning, a threat? All I know is, despite the little wind there is, the trees move constantly.   
  
I gather what windfall I can and eat the meal I brought with me, wondering what I should have tomorrow. I settle down, watching the flames until a trance state comes over me. It gives me little time to react when the Orc comes bounding out of the trees towards me and a knife is held to my throat.  
  
His other hand grasps my collar and lifts me to him; his breath is unspeakably foul and I almost vomit. His snarl turns to a smile; confusing me until he states,  
  
"I remember you from Isenguard. Saruman's pet," here a laugh that showed anything but true humour, "how he played with you in the dungeons."  
  
He paws at my clothes and my spine is ice; my throat is locked. I cannot move. If I do not resist, it will not hurt so much. I think of other things. I think of Eomer, the one pleasant, loving thing in my life, long gone now. I try and stare at the stars, the cold snatching at my skin as my clothes are lifted, this is happening to someone else, there is thunder in my ears and the Orc snarls above me. There is a crunch as something swoops down and the heavy form of the Orc lands on me as his head rolls away into the fire.  
  
Someone is putting me on horseback and getting up behind me; two arms slide around my sides and we gallop off. There is dark hair beside me as I rock against the man who is taking me home, please let it be home.   
  
"He is still shaking," says a soft voice next to me. I know it, I think.  
  
I glance towards it but it is hard to tell who it is in the dark. She sounds kind.  
  
Eomer.  
  
I follow them back after Eomund and I bury the piece of filth that walked upright briefly. Grima had been put on Aragorn's horse and he and Arwen were taking him back. That blank look had come back again, the one I did not much care for.   
  
Eomund and I pushed the horses until we caught up with them; it had been a long ride and we needed to reach Edoras. I was exhausted and we slowed to a trot, making our way across the plains slowly. I heard my name being mentioned and Grima would turn, looking for me. I rode alongside Aragorn to keep an eye on my beloved, for I dearly did not want him ill again.   
  
We entered the gates, reached the stables and dismounted. Thankfully Thengel and Faramir had made their way to meet us and Thengel and Eomund half carried Grima up the stoneway and up to his room. There was no sign of Eowyn, for which I was profoundly glad and I made my way to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed.  
  
I do not know how long I slept; save that it was night again when I awoke and a fire had been set in both our rooms, warming the place up nicely.  
  
I sat up on the bed. "Grima?"  
  
He shuffled in, a frail old man stood before me, holding books to his chest. His face was tear streaked but his eyes had life in them; he was essentially there. That blank look of nothing, that stare into an abyss had gone.  
  
"Sit with me Grima," and I pat the cover next to me.  
  
"Did you not read my note?" he asks in a voice so quiet I can barely hear him.  
  
"I did not receive one."  
  
His hand slides past me, under my pillow and passes me a small piece of paper with a shaking hand. I hold it, enclose it in my own.  
  
"You should not have left. Why did you not come to me?"  
  
"I knew the row that it would cause between you and your sister. I could not be the cause of that. I reckoned it would be easier for you if I left."  
  
"You reckoned wrong! How would I be able to carry on without you? Do you see yourself as so insignificant to me? After all this time? Do I mean that little to you?"  
  
"No, my lord! Do you not think I was thinking of you when I did this? I could not find you to explain so I left the note. I could not speak of this to anyone."  
  
"Not even Eomund?"  
  
"How could I explain to him? That knowledge would be as bad as Eowyn telling all. He would not understand."  
  
"He knows, I am sure. Eomund cares for you greatly, he was the one impatient to see me, to ask why you had gone. He could not fathom it either."  
  
I heaved a breath and read his note. I should read this first. I would not have been so angry with the man who sent me this. I am too moved to speak   
  
After a while I can and state that we should go down to the Hall and eat at least. I am at a loss to see what to do next. At least I can learn what has happened to my guests ( and I will be surprised if they ever grace my Hall gain, what with frequent crisis's and such.)  
  
Grima  
  
He quietened after reading my letter and at least he knows of my reasons for leaving. It is hard to write clearly and honestly when you are in the midst of a panic.  
  
I am weary and feel old and broken. I realise what may have happened last night but my mind will not dwell on it, save to ask why I could not fight.   
  
We sit at the table and Eomund gives me a worried glance as he passes. I have been afflicted with such bad health that they worry. It is curiously comforting to be the focus of concern. Aragorn sits next to me and asks after me; I reply and thank him for bringing me home. I pass him the cloth and bowl to wash his hands and we both smile at the irony. Faramir joins us, looking as weary. He has had a long day it seems and cannot stay for long tomorrow. Aragorn starts to speak and a glance from Arwen stops him. The unspoken word is Eowyn and she does not join us, although Eomer leaves to join her it seems. Faramir looks after his retreating form but does not join him. It is Eomund's shake that rouses me from my chair and into my room. Eomer's room is darkened and I do not join him. I am tired beyond all reckoning. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

*Chapter Eleven*  
  
Eomer   
  
We exchanged bitter words. I do not doubt that she will never visit here again. I am her perverse, wilful brother who seems too stupid to sense danger it seems. I even showed her parts of Grima's journal to show his intent but she would have none of it. I tried to explain, but our tempers were too hot to accept reason. And the sad thing of it is that I will not miss her. Her actions were too much to contend with. Her heirs are mine too, yet we will never meet again, at least not that I can foresee.  
  
The morning arrived and I lay, having perused the diaries all night. The earliest were hard to understand and Grima reflected on this later on. He seemed to find them hard to follow and there are gaps where the pages are torn away. There are references to Orcs but the pages have been stained by water and it is hard to make out the words. Judging by the orc's actions, I am not sure that I want to.  
  
But the later ones reflect his thoughts about us, a passion tempered by fear; of rejection by me, of being exposed and causing "disruption to the kingdom," as he puts it. He described the very real pleasure of "repairing" Rohan, his missing me when I went on a progress, the gossip in the Court and ...  
  
Well. So I was right about the elf and the dwarf.  
  
I will pay for no rest later in the day but my reading finally comes to an end. I go to Grima and sit on the end of his bed, waiting for him to awake. And wait. And wait. And start stroking his leg to get a response. He hardens and moans but does not wake. Finally I slide in next to him and playfully nibble at his ear, kiss his neck until he stirs. It is a while since we did this, our passions not as frequent as our younger days, but the desire is still there.   
  
"Do you still want to?" I murmur and my reply is a deep kiss whilst his hands play through my hair and then struggle to remove my leggings. I lift my hips and they are gone; I clamber on him and lift up the robe. His skin ivory like in the pale morning and I kiss him, working my way down his body. He moans as I take him in my mouth, his hips shift as I carry on. I feel very squashed and adjust my position so that I lie alongside him, my feel sticking off the end of the bed near his head. My hips are pushed so I lie on my side and he lies on his and my member hardens in such warmth. His tongue swirls around me as I try and return the favour, moaning around him. He quickens his pace and I am so close he must be able to taste me. My hand clutches his hip as I near my pleasure and his mouth seems more insistent as I hit my peak. His lips are damp as he reclines back lazily, a slow smile on his face.   
  
Steps in the corridor and he gets up, dressing quickly as I stagger back to my room and splash water on my face in a desperate attempt to awaken. A ride out will awaken me and I plan to ask Aragorn and Arwen to join me.  
  
Some months pass, with Arwen and Aragorn taking their leave, reminding me of my promise to return their invitation and set off with them when they next pass this way.  
  
We plan a visit their home instead of staying longer at mine. This time Grima will come with me instead of remaining behind and I give instructions to the Marshals of the Riddermark to govern in my absence. Eomund and Thengel will run the Hall well I feel; how long have they watched me and my methods?  
  
We pack plenty and set out on our way, leaving behind the bad memories of the past few days. Grima does well considering he is not an experienced horseman. All goes well until we cross the river and he slips from his mount and falls in. Dried and clothes changed, we jest about this later on, but a few days later he develops a troublesome cough which seems to worry Arwen more than him. For someone in his later years, he is coping well with the journey and the elements.  
  
We arrive at Elessar's palace, which I had not seen since the crowning - was it really twenty one years ago that I last glimpsed this place? I am filled with wonder. Grima is amazed and I am heartened by his reaction, he looks full of light here. He certainly does not look his age, being in his early eighties by now, only a fragility gives him away.  
  
The New Year, 1440 begins and we celebrate with song and feasting. The sun rises on a new day as I embrace Grima and we stand looking down upon Rivendell in its beauty.  
  
I leave him to rest and join my hosts. All is so peaceful here.  
  
Grima  
  
My old age makes me tremble. My chest seems bounds somehow; it pains me but I do not wish to trouble the King about it. All the signals of growing older I suppose; Rohan has had such a turbulent past that few men have reached this age, I have no point of comparison.  
  
My comforts lie thus; my Eomer and here, Rivendell. Never had I dreamed of such a place! It gladdens me just to look at it. I sit and survey everywhere from the room Eomer and I share (the novelty of that still tickles me, we would never be able to do this back home). Truly it seems a paradise on earth.  
  
Our nights together in the same bed; perhaps I will recover a little strength to be more active in it. As it is; I am content to lie against my king, knowing safety and peace in his arms.   
  
Eomer  
  
He lies so still next to me. He has rested more here it seems. He scarcely seems to move and I do not wish to disturb him, his face is so peaceful. His chest has none of the hitching that seems to pain him lately. It scarcely seems to move.  
  
"Grima?"  
  
Such a terrible feeling comes over me; how still he is! I shake his shoulder a little; it is warm but his awakening produces a fit of coughing that takes a while to subside and fear encloses my heart. We have been so happy; I could not bear to lose him now. He lies against me, panting for breath. I sit him up and stroke his hair to calm him. He leans against me and eventually falls back asleep. He is lighter against me. I will ask the Elves to look at him tomorrow.  
  
Grima  
  
Arwen sits with me as Eomer has gone out riding with Aragorn, or Elessar as he is known here.   
  
"You are quiet today Grima."  
  
"I am a little tired, my lady."  
  
"Do you not sleep well here? Is there anything you need?"  
  
"No, it is my chest, it is tighter at night-time."  
  
We sit for a while, she is looking at me with such concern that I suggest a walk and she takes me around the palace, never straying too far from the rooms or steps where I can sit.  
  
"Have you told Eomer of your illness?" she asks so gently.  
  
"No, my lady, it would only worry him. I do not wish to cause him pain, I have caused enough already."  
  
"How? Your presence is such a comfort to him. Anyone who can see you two together can see the love you bear each other."  
  
"I caused his split with his kin."  
  
"Eowyn's own actions caused that, Grima."  
  
"Yet did I not hurt her when I was younger? Her memories of me are of a shadow haunting her steps. I was obsessed."  
  
"Did you ever explain to her that you grieved for this?"  
  
"I tried."  
  
"Then what more can you do? A person can only tell so much if no-one will hear them. Let it go and let her be; you can do no more."  
  
We walk back to the main balcony of Rivendell where long ago, Elrond held his council and the Fellowship was formed. We sit and I remark how I am enchanted by this place. Arwen smiles and takes my hand in hers.  
  
"I am glad you find such peace and contentment here."  
  
I look at her steadily.  
  
"I will not see the Golden Hall again will I?"  
  
"That is not for us to decide Grima. Know that I would not have you ride out again in such bad health as you have at present."  
  
I start to form an argument to this but it is of no use to lie to her; she can see my state. I only hope that Eomer will stay with me a little longer.  
  
She smiles. "He will stay." 


	12. Chapter Twelve The End

*Chapter Twelve*  
  
Eomer  
  
The last days at Rivendell are painful to me to relate, even after I have outlived him by 40 years now. I face the same shortness of breath, the same loss of weight and tightness of chest that he did.   
  
  
  
He lived till his eight- third year, I have lived to my eighty fifth. I had had a long and content life, though never truly happy since I lost him. And there has been only Aragorn and Arwen to talk with about it. I have never been back to Rivendell, though I know he loved it there. He lies there still, I could not bring him back here and look down on his grave beyond our gates.  
  
He died in my arms. The rasping finally stopped. No manly pride or reserve here; I cried freely and could not be comforted, save by the memory of his happiness there.  
  
I know why Celeborn could not live without his Galadriel.  
  
My dreams comfort me; they grow more vivid in my old age. We walk again, both young men with no stoop of our shoulders or catching of breath. The occasional more passionate dream is recalled with some pleasure when I awake. I remember the time when I laid him back on his bed, moved my fingers within him until he cried aloud and then panted within him until we reached our pleasures. I remember his sweet smell, his little gasps, his ivory skin and the memories taunt and please me. They are bittersweet, it seems.  
  
Faramir and Eowyn have been informed of my condition and have returned to the Golden Hall. They help govern while I lie helpless. Thengel and Eomund sons are confused with their fathers when I call for them. I have happier memories of this room but they are of little comfort now. I sink and rise and the rising is more painful.  
  
Arwen is here, at least I think she is. Shadows come and go, people pass through my room. Theodred comes and sits on my bed but I cannot speak. My uncle, my father?  
  
Eowyn sits by me and wipes my face. Faramir stands by me; he helps me to sit.  
  
There is a light in the darkness of the corridor. I watch as it fills the door.   
  
Grima? Grima! He stands smiling in the doorway. He has come back for me.  
  
I rise; I go to him as Faramir covers my face.  
  
N.B All letters, dates and events referred to with the exception of Grima and Eomer's relationship and its effect on Eowyn are taken from the Appendices of Return of the King. All other parts of the story and the implied relationships are mine alone.  
  
All characters are copyright J.R.R.Tolkien They are merely borrowed. 


End file.
